


Something More

by inkandwords



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Multi, Texting, atsu fics, inspired by the show f.r.i.e.n.d.s., no polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandwords/pseuds/inkandwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Bokuto gets a text message from a wrong number only to find that maybe, just maybe, something wrong can lead to something right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One With the Wrong Number

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [new phone who dis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4974943) by [meruemsthighs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meruemsthighs/pseuds/meruemsthighs). 



> also inspired by that one episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S., a convo with [izayas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/izayas/pseuds/izayas) about my need to have Bo in a box as an apology to Kuroo, and [this secondhand serenade song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47si7UFnKTo).
> 
> Thanks to [**izayas**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/izayas/pseuds/izayas) and [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for being my extra pairs of eyes. ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT:** Russian translation [**here**](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4374628) by [**tanhianik**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tanhianik/pseuds/tanhianik).

**Received From: Unknown**  
[9:06]: I’m sorry I can’t make it tonight.  
[9:06]: Work ran a little late and I had some clients that had gotten... difficult.  
[9:07]: How about tomorrow? Maybe I’ll let you give me a massage instead.

**Sent To: Unknown**  
[9:12]: OHOHOHO WAY TO START OFF THE CONVO  
[9:12]: that’s too bad  
[9:12]: sucky clients suck!

**Received From: Unknown**  
[9:16]: Yeah, well. It’s part of the job.  
[9:20]: So... sushi tomorrow? I’m really too tired tonight. I’ll even treat this time.

**Sent To: Unknown**  
[9:28]: not that i dont appreciate the invite  
[9:30]: and now im really REALLY craving sushi  
[9:31]: but u maybe wanna give me ur name first or?

**Received From: Unknown**  
[9:35]: Wait, who is this?  
[9:36]: I dropped my phone and had to get a new one and I could’ve sworn this was the right number.

**Sent To: Unknown**  
[9:39]: oh man thats a bummer!  
[9:39]: im BOKUTO btw bokuto koutarou  
[9:40]: whoops idk why it capslocks my name  
[9:40]: i guess i yell about myself a lot HAHA  
[9:41]: nice to meet u! well it will be once u give me ur name :D

**Received From: Unknown**  
[9:45]: Akaashi Keiji. Nice to meet you too, Bokuto-san.

**Sent To: Unknown**  
[9:47]: r u always so formal?

**Received From: Unknown**  
[9:50]: We just met. I was being polite.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[9:52]: okay I just changed ur name on my contacts  
[9:53]: does that mean ull drop the polite stuff? :D

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:02]: I’m always polite to people I’ve just met.  
[10:03]: I’m sorry to have bothered you. You must be busy.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:14]: what makes u say that??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:16]: It’s Friday night. People are generally busy on Friday nights.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:21]: nah I’m just watchin this documentary on owls  
[10:23]: my roommate thinks im too into them lol  
[10:24]: hes more of a dog person but if u saw him ud think hed be into cats

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:26]: Owls huh?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:35]: u think its weird too dont u?  
[10:38]: its ok everyone thinks i get weird about them but i cant help it!  
[10:39]: somethin about those owls lol

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:40]: I don’t think it’s weird.  
[10:40]: It’s kind of cute actually.  
[10:42]: And owls are great. I have a thing about them myself...

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:43]: YOU DO??? THAT’S AWESOME!!  
[10:44]: wait ur not trying to make me feel better r u?  
[10:44]: n wtf im not cute IM MANLY AS HELL  
[10:46]: but really u like owls too? :DD

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:51]: I wouldn’t say something I don’t mean. I can show you my collection if you want?  
[10:52]: And you do realize that your saying you’re not cute automatically makes it more true?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:52]: U HAVE A COLLECTION ????  
[10:53]: ok ok u can call me cute if u send me a picture

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:59]: _1.img_  
[10:59]: Sorry about the lighting. I’m already in bed.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:02]: WHOA WHOA WHOA  
[11:02]: I  
[11:02]: UM

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:03]: Bokuto-san?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:05]: I  
[11:05]: IM OKAY  
[11:06]: i thought u were gonna send a pic of ur collection  
[11:06]: but WOW

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:09]: Is that... good?  
[11:11]: Here.  
[11:13]: _2.img_  
[11:13]: My collection.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:16]: OK I AM OFFICIALLY IMPRESSED TWICE  
[11:18]: u have moved into the cool zone and i feel bad for whoever it is ur ditching tonight

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:22]: Uh thanks?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:23]: NO NO IT WAS A COMPLIMENT  
[11:24]: sorry sometimes i say stupid things and dont realize theyre stupid until i say them and then it just sounds stupid to take them back and

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:24]: It wasn’t stupid.  
[11:25]: Thank you, Bokuto-san. I’m glad you liked the pictures  
[11:25]: I better be getting to bed though. I have an early day tomorrow.  
[11:26]: Have a good night.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:29]: u too akaashi! it was really great talking to u  
[11:30]: get some rest ok!

* * *

 

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[7:47]: HEY HEY HEY

**Received From: akaashi**  
[9:08]: Bokuto-san

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[9:11]: u remembered!  
[9:11]: its been a few days so i thought ud forgotten about me

**Received From: akaashi**  
[9:15] You’re pretty hard to forget.  
[9:16] No big plans for the last day of the weekend?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[9:20]: ur kinda hard to forget too jsyk  
[9:20]: i just got home when i texted earlier  
[9:21]: now im just watching a movie n windin down  
[9:22]: hbu?

**Received From: akaashi**  
[9:25]: I’m about to grab a bite to eat.  
[9:26]: I haven’t eaten since this morning and I’m starving.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[9:28] aw how come? :(

**Received From: akaashi**  
[9:35]: I was booked up with clients all day and didn’t have time.  
[9:36]: My ride is here so I have to go.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[9:36]: good! have fun at dinner!

 

*****

 

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:16] How was your movie?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:33]: OH HEY  
[1:34]: movie was awesome  
[1:34]: fifth time watchin it and still as great as the first  
[1:36]: HOW WAS DINNER?? DID YOU FEED URSELF  
[1:37]: i cant believe u went thru the whole day w/o eating! id prob start eating my arm or smth

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:40]: Please don’t eat your arm Bokuto-san.  
[1:41]: It was good. I just got home actually.  
[1:43]: Sorry, I just realized what time it was. I hope I didn’t wake you?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:45]: drifting off but not asleep yet so ur good  
[1:46]: u workin tomorrow?

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:49]: It’s my day off.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:51]: thats good right? get to relax and eat when ur supposed to eat  
[1:52]: unless u forget  
[1:52]: but whod forget to eat

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:55]: I’m so tired right now that I just might.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:56]: u need a reminder?  
[1:56]: I COULD REMIND U  
[1:57]: WOULD U EAT IF I REMINDED U??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:59] You don’t have to go out of your way Bokuto-san  
[2:00] I think I can remember to eat on my own.  
[2:01] But speaking of taking care of ourselves... you should sleep.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:05]: id counter that but i think my brain is countering my counter haha  
[2:06]: u should sleep too

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:07]: I will. Goodnight Bokuto-san.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:08]: night akaashi!

* * *

 

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:35] DID U REMEMBER TO EAT

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:38] You have impeccable timing.  
[12:39] I’m actually having lunch as we speak.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:43] ohoho? whatcha havin??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:45] _3.img_  
[12:46] It’s not as good as I thought it was going to be.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:47] YAKINIKU  
[12:47] HOW IS YAKINIKU NOT GOOD  
[12:48] IF I WAS THERE ID EAT ALL OF IT FOR U

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:50] That’s good to know. Maybe for next time.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:54] u askin me out? ;D  
[12:55] thats the second time uv invited me to food

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:56] Why do I picture your eyebrows moving as I read that?  
[12:57] And the first time was by mistake.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:59] n the second??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:05] Open invitation. For yakiniku, I suppose.  
[1:06] Maybe there’s a place with meat you know of that doesn’t taste like rubber.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:08] its now my personal mission to find u a place w meat that doesnt taste like rubber  
[1:12] _1.img_

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:25] Did you really just send me a picture of you wagging your eyebrows?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:27] yeah!! u said u can picture it but u dk what my face looks like  
[1:28] so i thought id show u a visual ref

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:30] Remind me not to eat or drink anything while I’m opening an image from you.  
[1:33] This is going to sound weird, but you look exactly like I pictured you.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:37] uv been picturin me??  
[1:38] ok i dont feel as bad picturin ur face either then  
[1:39] u have a nice face

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:45] So do you.  
[1:46] Lively. Like you would be fun to have around.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:55] .................................................

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:56] Bokuto-san?  
[1:56] Is something wrong?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:58] no no no sorryy  
[1:59] ive just never had someone who looked like u say that about me

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:02] I don’t know what you mean by that.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:04] its nothin nvm ignore me im dumb  
[2:05] u seem like ud b fun to have around too  
[2:07] even if ur formal n polite

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:12] Is being polite a bad thing?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:13] nah course not  
[2:14] its kinda cute when u do it

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:15] Are you calling me cute?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:17] i call u a lot of things  
[2:17] cute wud b 1 of em yeah  
[2:18] must b hard

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:19] That’s what she said.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:22] .............................................  
[2:22] did u just

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:23] See? Not always so formal and polite. :)

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:25] NO KIDDIN LOL  
[2:26] I DID NOT EXPECT THAT  
[2:28] ur cool factor just went up by another 10 pts  
[2:29] sassy n cute where u been all my life

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:30] Eating bad yakiniku that tastes like rubber, apparently.  
[2:31] I have to go in to work now, but thank you for keeping me company while I ate.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:32] NP!!  
[2:33] glad u remembered to eat this time  
[2:33] dont work too hard!!

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:35] I’ll try. Talk to you later, Bokuto-san.

* * *

 

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:43] THERE IS A NEW OWL DOCUMENTARY I JUST FOUND ON NETFLIX  
[10:44] it is my goal to watch every single one i can find

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:56] Is this what you do every Friday night?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:58] not EVERY friday night  
[10:59] but i didnt have anything planned so here i am  
[11:00] even if i did this would be worth stayin in for  
[11:02] whatr u up to anyway??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:03] Hot date.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:04] OHOHO??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:05] Mhm  
[11:06] _4.img_  
[11:06] My date. :)

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:07] IS THAT A LEGEND OF THE GUARDIANS LIMITED EDITION SOREN PLUSH  
[11:08] :OOOOOOOOO

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:09] Yes. I figured you might recognize him. :)  
[11:10] I’m about to watch the movie now.  
[11:11] Just putting it in.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:11] thats what she said ;D

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:13] I opened myself up for that one.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:13] thats what she said ;DD

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:14] That was too good not to see coming.  
[11:15] Shit  
[11:15] ...don’t do it.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:15] now ur learnin HAHA  
[11:16] man now i wanna watch that movie  
[11:17] cant believe ur watchin it now

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:20] You could watch it with me.  
[11:20] If you want.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:21] :OOOOO  
[11:22] how?

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:24] If you have a copy, we can watch it together.  
[11:25] Or you can watch mine with me through Skype?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:26] like a skype date? :D

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:27] Yeah, I guess you can call it that.  
[11:28] What’s your username? I’ll add you now.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:30] dont laugh..................  
[11:31] hoothootmthrfkr

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:31] Oh my god.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:32] ur laughin at me arent u

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:33] Of course not, Bokuto-san.  
[11:34] I just added you.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:36] imowlset?  
[11:36] n u were laughin me hahahaha

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:37] Don’t laugh. I’ve had the username since high school.  
[11:38] I was the setter for our volleyball team.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:38] YOU PLAYED?? SO DID I!! WING SPIKER BABY YEAH!!!  
[11:39] just when i thought u couldnt be more cool

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:40] I was just thinking the same thing.  
[11:41] Restarting the movie and turning video on.  
[11:41] Are you ready?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:42] n waitin!!  
[11:43] wait did u just call me cool??!

Adjusting his laptop monitor before he turns on the video option, Bokuto does a quick mirror check to make sure he looks halfway presentable before he slides into the camera’s view.

Akaashi’s face is already centered on his screen, the television behind him with the previews muted while they both get settled.

“You have a flat screen in your bedroom, holy shit!”

Cracking a hint of a smile, Akaashi nods while he turns up the volume and finds a comfortable position against the pillow he’s propped under his head. “Can you see all right?”

“Yeah! Perfect view!” Bokuto moves the laptop to the end of his bed as he shifts on his stomach and rests his chin on his hands. “I gotta say, this is the first time I’ve ever watched a movie like this and you’re pretty--” He pauses, momentarily distracted by the glint of green he sees reflected in Akaashi’s eyes from his monitor’s glare. “--awesome. I meant pretty awesome. For doing this, uh, thing... yeah.”

It’s then Akaashi laughs, quiet and soft, but genuine. Pleasing. “You’re cute,” he says without hesitation. “Like a little baby owl. Now stop distracting me so we can watch the other owls.”

Bokuto blinks owlishly at his screen, feels his face ignite to the core temperature of the sun, and barely manages to croak out a response before he’s effectively distracted for the rest of the night, favorite movie be damned.

* * *

 

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:28] so last night was fun  
[12:28] wait forget i said that lol

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:29] Why? Last night was a lot of fun.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:31] cause it sounds like a lame opener after a first date  
[12:32] i can do better  
[12:33] watch

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:36] Still waiting, Bokuto-san.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:38] sorry had to go outside  
[12:39] ppl still try to ask questions even tho im on break haha

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:45] I know how that feels.  
[12:46] What line of work are you in?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:48] that sounds so shady when u say it that way  
[12:49] im a personal trainer :DD  
[12:49] CRAP I GOTT AGO BAC K IN  
[12:50] some guy thought he can bench w/o a spotter oh man  
[12:51] b4 i go tho  
[12:51] u up for another movie tonite??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:52] Maybe. I have a dinner thing I have to go to, but I should be home around midnight. Is that too late?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:53] nope! i should still be up but i can wait if u want  
[12:54] u can always txt me if i pass out

**Received From: akaashi**  
[12:57] You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to inconvenience you.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[12:58] ur not an inconvenience! promise!!  
[12:59] just let me know if ur still up for it if ur not too tired later  
[12:59] shit gtg tho ttyl!!

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:01] Good luck with the guy without a spotter. :)  
[1:02] Talk to you later, Bokuto-san.

* * *

 

By the end of the next week and three Skype calls later, Bokuto starts to wonder what it would be like to watch a movie next to Akaashi instead of through the bright glare of his monitor. He’s never been one to latch on to someone as quickly as he’s grown to enjoy Akaashi’s company and in all honesty, he’s not sure why he’s waited this long to see if the connection is the same once they finally meet face to face.

He makes the decision the morning after their last Skype date and sends the text before he effectively passes out.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[4:33] u dont have to answer since ur probably sleepin but  
[4:34] u maybe wanna go grab dinner  
[4:34] like idk maybe meet in person??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[4:35] Maybe.  
[4:36] You still owe me a restaurant that serves yakiniku that doesn’t taste like rubber. :)

Bokuto grins at his phone, wonders if maybe, longshot as it is, Akaashi might feel the same.

* * *

 

“Sweet! New pot of coffee! Knew I could count on you!”

“You’re looking chipper.”

Bokuto kicks the door shut behind him before helping himself to the pot of coffee on the counter. Kozume Kenma, his neighbor across the hall, sits in front of the dual monitor screen setup he has on his work desk and continues tapping the keyboard without looking at him.

“Had a good night, what can I say?” Bokuto hisses through his teeth when the coffee scalds his tongue. “Hey Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“You ever meet someone you just click with so well that it feels like you’ve known them forever?”

“Is that a serious question?”

Taking another sip, Bokuto laughs and smacks his forehead, nearly spilling the coffee before he has the chance to set it down on the desk next to Kenma. “Tetsu doesn’t count ‘cause you guys _have_ known each other forever.” He points to the empty mug by the mouse pad. “Refill?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So anyway, there’s this guy I met,” Bokuto starts while he pours Kenma another cup of the aromatic brew. “He’s... ugh, I don’t even know how to describe it! He’s into owls, for one.”

“Always a plus, I guess.”

“And he used to play volleyball! Pretty well, too, from what he’s told me.” Adding just enough creamer to turn it a dark brown, Bokuto sticks the carton back in refrigerator, pulls out an ice cube from the freezer, and drops it into the cup.

“Sounds like a real catch.”

“Right?! Did I mention he’s hot? Like scorching. We had another Skype thing last night and I swear I kept having to remind myself not to stare ‘cause _wow_.” He pads back over to where Kenma sits frowning at the screen before trading their cups and making himself comfortable on the large beanbag facing the television. Then he turns to Kenma, eyes wide, and bristles with a sort of giddy happiness he hasn’t felt in a while. “He’s got an owl memorabilia collection, Pud!”

Kenma sniffs, the sound slightly perturbed. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Aw, but it suits you! ‘Sides, I know you don’t really mean it.”

“How do you figure?”

“’Cause you try to hide the smile every time.”

“Do not.”

“Do so!”

“Do not.”

Just then, the door swings open and in walks Kuroo Tetsurou, earbuds still in place, face flushed and sweaty from his morning run. “Any more of that coffee around?”

“OHO LOOK AT WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN,” Bokuto says with a quick nod in Kuroo’s general direction. “Mr. Big Shot’s finally decided to grace us with his grand presence? I feel like we should throw a party. Pud, you in?”

With a quiet sniff, Kenma continues with the mouse clicking. “Pass.”

“Burn! Breaking News! This just in: loyal fans jump ship after disappearance of star player.”

“ _Former_ star player,” Kuroo corrects. “Is that your obnoxious way of sayin’ you missed me?”

“You know, you guys have a coffee machine at your place,” Kenma says, finally turning from the game design he’s working on to deadpan at the newest arrival. “I’m not your personal Starbucks.”

“But kitten,” Kuroo says, purposefully amping up the drawl while he pours himself a generous cup, “what excuse would I use to come over and see you?”

Kenma remains unmoved. “Like you’ve ever needed one.”

“True, but what’s one more I can add to the mix?” Kuroo makes his way over to Kenma, fondly ruffling his hair as he peers at the coding on the screen. The gesture earns a scoff from Kenma before he bats Kuroo’s hand away, which only serves to add to Kuroo’s obvious amusement. “What’s that? New game?”

“Same one I’ve been working on for the last six months.” The way Kenma’s lips tug down doesn’t escape Bokuto’s notice, though Kuroo seems to be preoccupied with whatever is on the screen. “But I guess you’ve been too busy to notice.”

“I thought you finished that project last month?”

Bokuto pipes up as he’s flipping through channels before Kenma can answer, “final edits!”

Kenma mumbles, “what he said,” before giving his keyboard a few taps to close out the program. “I’m going to shower. There better be a fresh pot of coffee when I come out.”

And he disappears into the bathroom without another word.

“What’s he so grumpy about?” Kuroo migrates his mug from the desk to the coffee table and plops down on the overstuffed couch. He points to the screen. “Turn it on to the game, yeah?”

“Are ya sure, bro? Maybe it’s not a good idea to watch it ‘cause--”

“It’s fine, Kou. I’m done moping about it.”

“But what if--”

“Hey, I was gonna retire at some point. What’s a few years earlier than planned, right? Turn the game on.”

Bokuto does as he’s told and switches from the random movie he’s found to the game Kuroo requested. The final set is just about to end, Kuroo’s former team leading with a considerable margin just as a service ace takes the final point. Kuroo stares at the screen, silent when the crowd erupts in jubilant cheers.

After a few minutes, Bokuto breaks the quiet. “Good run today?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says absently, eyes still glued to the television as the post-game interviews begin. “You should’ve come with.”

“I would have, but I was up late watchin’ a movie and you usually get up to run at ass o’clock in the mornin’.”

Kuroo finishes off whatever was in his mug and shuffles over to the kitchen to drain the rest of the pot. He preps the next batch and turns the percolator on. “Yeah, I heard you mumbling in your room,” he says with a laugh, back to his old self again now that the sports channel moved on to something else. “Have you taken to talking to the t.v. or?”

“Oh! No, I was Skyping with someone and it just, I dunno-- was I that loud? I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I had to get up anyway; no harm, no foul. Must have been a pretty good movie.”

“Totally! _Legend of the Guardians_! Instant classic.” Bokuto tips his mug toward Kuroo, who refills it once the coffee finishes brewing. He hands it back and Bokuto brings the cup to his face and inhales deeply, the aroma heightening his already happy mood. Not even the face Kuroo pulls is enough to shatter the good vibes. “Don’t give me that look. I still stand by my firm opinion that it’s an awesome movie.”

Kuroo snorts. “You would. Oh hey, don’t be late tonight. I’m bringing someone over that I want you guys to meet.”

“Oho? Is this the one that’s gotten you so distracted you couldn’t even tell what Kenma was working on?” Bokuto asks, not bothering with the subtleties. “You should apologize to him at some point, y’know. Just ‘cause you started seein’ someone doesn’t mean you get to ditch him.”

“I’m not dit--” Kuroo halts when they hear the water in the bathroom shut off, lowering his voice to a murmur. “I’m not ditching him. I just-- when I met this guy, he was supposed to be a distraction. Something to get my mind off of things, you know? Off of-- well, anyway, I think I might actually like this one.”

“You’re an idiot. And I say that with the greatest affection. He’s your best friend. Fix that shit.”

“So are you and I don’t see you moping around just ‘cause I haven’t been around as much.”

“We’re different, I guess. But I live with you. And just ‘cause I don’t show it like he does, I gotta admit. I’ve missed having you around, too.”

Kuroo’s expression softens before his eyebrows crease. “C’mon bro, it hasn’t been that bad, has it?”

“Let’s just say I spend more time with Kenma than I do with you lately and you and I share a place. I’ll bet you can’t even remember the last time you hung out with us. Like _really_ hung out.”

“I--” Kuroo frowns and scratches the side of his head. “I guess it _has_ been a while, huh?”

“All’s I’m sayin’ is that you’ve been a little distant. You’re here, but you’re not here. Not really. And it’s takin’ a toll. You guys need to talk. Especially if you’re gonna bring around the reason you’ve been M.I.A. the last few weeks.”

"You think?”

“I think.”

Downing the rest of his coffee, Kuroo nods, though Bokuto isn’t entirely convinced. “Fine, okay. _Okay_. I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

 

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:45] guess whose new client just so happens to work for the toy company that makes the lim ed legend of the guardians plushies?????

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:48] You’re pulling my leg.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:49] trust me if i had a choice it wouldnt be ur leg id be pullin ;D

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:50] Now I’m picturing your eyebrows going to town on that.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:52] _6.img_

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:54] My nose thanks you for the coffee it just consumed.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:55] SHIT IM SORRY ILL NEVER SEND YOU EYEBROW WAGGING PICS AGAIN

**Received From: akaashi**  
[1:56] No, no, I’m fine.  
[1:57] Well, I am now that I can breathe again.  
[1:57] I wonder if your client can get the Gylfie one that’s sold out everywhere?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[1:59] HE PROBABLY COULD  
[1:59] I CAN ASK

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:01] I’d owe you.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:02] thats motivation right there hahahaha  
[2:04] oh hey u up for another movie night???  
[2:05] got a thing w the roomie for dinner but should be done around idk 11?

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:08] That could work.  
[2:09] I have a pretty later dinner thing, too, but a friend of mine suggested I watch Ju-On, so I might need some company.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:10] THAT IS A HARDCORE MOVIE  
[2:10] ITS A DATE :DD

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:14] I knew you couldn’t pass it up. :)  
[2:15] I’ll text you when I get home.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:17] SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN! TTYL!

* * *

 

While Bokuto is a little excited about Kuroo’s mystery guest, he is also a little apprehensive, a little hesitant. Worried. Mostly for Kenma, but also for himself. If Kuroo has been more preoccupied with his latest distraction, there’s a reason for it. And though he’s glad Kuroo has found someone worth his time, worth the energy to pick himself up again after his forced retirement from the national team, there’s a part of Bokuto that wonders if Kuroo’s latest conquest is going to drive him further away. He can barely handle the slight drift now; he’s not sure Kenma may be able to at all if it somehow ends up worsening.

“Pud, did you seriously beat that last boss level for me?” Bokuto cranes his neck to see Kenma setting out the last of the dishes, the smell of barbequed meat and savory noodles making his mouth water. His stomach grumbles in protest when he turns back to the game, controller in hand and maneuvering through the next level just as his player loses all his hit points from a surprise attack. “GOD DAMN IT. I HAD HIM.”

“You weren’t even close,” Kenma remarks with a sniff, pouring water in the glasses before he sets the sake on the table. “They’re going to be here soon. You should wash up.”

“BUT I ALMOST HAD HIM.”

“I’ll help you after dinner if you wash up now.”

“Beating the guy for me doesn’t count as helping,” Bokuto grumbles, but tosses the controller aside and complies anyway. “What do you think Kuroo’s new guy’ll be like? Do you think we’ll get along? That would suck if we didn’t ‘cause I’d have to see them all the time.”

Kenma gives an indifferent shrug. “Probably like all the rest of them. I don’t keep track.”

“I dunno. He sounded pretty serious about this one. Different, y’know? And whoever it is distracts him from that pity party he’s throwing himself. So that’s good, right?”

It’s a full minute before Bokuto realizes Kenma has yet to respond. When he turns to look at him, he finds Kenma’s hand suspended over the table, holding the remaining chopsticks. Kenma sets them down as soon as he notices Bokuto’s questioning gaze. “Yeah. I guess. Whatever makes him happy,” he mumbles just as the buzzer rings.

“Okay, that’s new. Since when does Tetsu ever use the doorbell?”

“Can you grab that? I just--” Kenma pauses, his eyebrows pinching together like he’s debating something, before he shuffles off toward the bathroom. “I need to use the, um--”

“Uh, sure,” Bokuto says, momentarily wondering if he should ask the question sitting on the tip of his tongue. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. I’ll be right back.” And he’s gone, door clicking shut behind him before Bokuto can ask again.

With a final glance toward where Kenma has just disappeared, Bokuto bounds over to answer the door, throwing it open, the insult he has ready for Kuroo instantly choking in his throat when he sees who it is.

He wonders if there’s some sort of hidden camera somewhere, if his life has somehow turned into a Twilight Zone moment of epic proportions. The room is definitely swaying, his legs suddenly forgetting how to be legs, and for a split second, his brain shuts down. Reboots once the shock has dulled.

Staring slack-jawed at the person just beyond the threshold, he finally manages to find his voice as he croaks out a confused, “Akaashi? What are you doin’ here?”


	2. The One With the Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto comes to terms with Kuroo's unexpected guest and Kenma shares a secret only Kuroo had known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [**izayas**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/izayas/pseuds/izayas) and [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for being my extra pairs of eyes. ♥
> 
> **EDIT:** Russian translation [**here**](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4374628/11531608#part_content) by [**tanhianik**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tanhianik/pseuds/tanhianik).

Akaashi gapes at him, his bewildered expression not nearly as comically pronounced as Bokuto supposes his probably is, but completely floored all the same. “B-Bokuto-san?”

Kuroo’s voice filters down the hall, a little out of breath, as he calls out, “Sorry we’re late!” Pausing to recompose himself, he slings an arm around Akaashi and leads him into the apartment. “Traffic was a bitch and we sorta got, uh, sidetracked before we left Akaashi’s place.”

The flush high on Kuroo’s cheeks is enough for Bokuto suspect that he definitely doesn’t want to know how, exactly, Kuroo and Akaashi were sidetracked.

Something sour churns in Bokuto’s gut, his brain still trying to process what’s happening while he prays that Kenma comes out of the bathroom in time to save him from the panic attack he’s pretty sure he’s in the middle of.

“N-Nice to meet ya, Akaashi!” he manages, awkwardly bowing much too low than should be normal. The gesture is out of place, out of character for him, and Kuroo stares at him like he’s just sprouted multiple heads.

Akaashi, however, seems to take the cue and does the same, even if the position must have been just as uncomfortable. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bokuto-san.”

The polite bow is coupled with a small smile and Bokuto swears his heart stops beating just long enough for him to feel the twinge, to realize that the sinking feeling isn’t something he’s made up. He points to Kuroo then to Akaashi and clears his throat, tries for a casual, “so you two, huh? How’d that happen?”

“Funny story,” Kuroo begins, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it over one of the chairs before he helps Akaashi out of his. “Doc recommended I go see a massage therapist and guess who I ended up gettin’?”

“That’s--”

Kenma emerges from the bathroom, tucking his hair behind his ear and stopping short when he catches a glimpse of Akaashi. His eyes widen just the slightest bit and Bokuto thinks he knows what it feels like, wonders if Kenma is thrown off by how unfairly attractive Akaashi is or if it’s something else that makes his usually deadpanned expression seem affected, a little put off.

“This is the one I’ve been tellin’ you about.” Kuroo walks over and throws an arm around Kenma, practically dragging him in front of Akaashi like some sort of trophy he’s proud of. “Akaashi Keiji, my best friend, Kozume Kenma.”

Bokuto is pretty sure this is what it feels like during an in-game knock out.

Though he’s quiet for a few seconds, Kenma finally speaks, giving Akaashi a curt bow of his head before he says, “Nice to meet you, Akaashi.”

“Now that everyone’s been introduced, let’s eat! I skipped lunch today and death by starvation is definitely not on my to-do list!” Kuroo announces, pausing to playfully nudge his nose against Akaashi’s nape. 

Bokuto suddenly feels a little dizzy, a little sick. Maybe more than he’s willing to admit. 

The gesture earns Kuroo a reproachful glance from Akaashi, though Bokuto doesn’t miss the amused fondness that replaces the initial reaction when they all take their seats. Kenma is the last to sit down, careful to keep from looking at the other two who seem to have little trouble with not so subtle public displays of affection.

_At least he finally looks happy for a change._

But as Bokuto’s focus shifts to the least vocal of the group, he wonders how someone so smart could be dumb enough to miss the quiet devastation, plain and obvious, on Kenma’s face.

*****

Dinner starts off awkward.

Not the marginally awkward kind that usually happens when someone new comes into the picture. Not even the kind that lingers, uncomfortable but bearable, when relatives come to visit and ask embarrassing questions about Bokuto’s sporadic love life.

It’s a weighted awkward; the kind that has Kenma shooting him meaningful glances, has Kuroo subtly tilting his head and silently asking “ _what the fuck is up with you?_ ”

To his credit, Bokuto tries. Really, honestly tries to make polite conversation that sounds more like the promotional videos he sometimes does for the gym he works in than anything he’d say hanging out with friends.

But Akaashi is beautiful. Soft-spoken, but sharp. Smart, but not in the way that makes Bokuto feel stupid. It turns out Akaashi in pictures and the grainy transmissions through Skype is nothing compared to the real deal. Distracting enough to make him trip over his words, to knock over the salt shaker instead of passing the pepper. Space out mid-sentence when he sees the corner of Akaashi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“This is gonna be a long night,” Bokuto mutters under his breath.

“You say something, Kou?” Kuroo asks, taking a sip of his beer.

With a shake of his head, Bokuto tips his beer toward Kuroo and grins. Bright, much too bright. “I’m starving! Are we gonna eat or are we gonna eat?!”

“Bo, if we let you eat first, there wouldn’t be anything left.”

“Maybe you should’ve gotten more food!”

Kenma sniffs. “You’re a human garbage disposal.”

“Am not!”

“Are, too.”

“Am not!”

“Are, too.”

Kuroo waves his beer around like a white flag. “All right, all right! I’m so hungry I can probably finish all of this off myself if you guys are gonna keep arguin’ like that! Kenma first, then Akaashi. Kou and I can fight for the leftover portions afterwards.”

“Kenma’s yakiniku is legendary! You should take a generous helping, Akaashi. Promise it’ll be the best thing you’ve eaten. Much better than rubber meat!” Bokuto flinches at the information he hadn’t meant to give away, the automatic gesture lasting only a split second before the smile returns. “I mean, if you like that kind of stuff.”

“Thank you for the recommendation, Bokuto-san.”

“If you keep trying to give all the food away, you won’t have any left for yourself,” Kenma says matter-of-factly.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure I fight Tetsu for my fair share!”

“You’re on, bro!”

Akaashi laughs, low but clear, and Bokuto nearly falls out of his chair. “Kuroo-san did say tonight was going to be entertaining. I’m glad he was right.”

“Am I ever wrong?” Kuroo asks, smirking.

“Do you really want us to answer that, Kuro?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, enough about my non-existent mistakes--”

“--we’d be here all night,” Bokuto quips, trying to force the light banter and hoping that no one has noticed the failed attempt as Kenma digs into the first dish.

It’s then he notices Kenma’s eyes flicker first toward Kuroo, then at Akaashi, before he silently goes back to what he’s doing, subtle frown in place. When the pieces click together, Bokuto recognizes Kenma’s expression, fragile like glass, and doubtless mirroring exactly how he feels.

And he wonders if sitting through this one dinner is just as affecting to Kenma’s state of mind as it is for his.

Dinner goes better the closer it comes to ending, though the heaviness returns as soon as Kuroo announces he and Akaashi are going to head across the hall to hang out before Akaashi has to go.

The idea of it stings more than Bokuto expects. 

Kenma seems even less enthused by the idea, but says nothing except “fine, have fun” before he shuffles off into his bedroom to indicate everyone should let themselves out.

“I guess that means I’m headin’ back with you guys, too,” Bokuto says, trying for chipper but sounding more weirdly hyped up than anything else. Distracted. Skittish. Maybe two shots shy of a caffeine mistake.

As soon as Bokuto enters the other apartment, however, his decision to come back with Kuroo and Akaashi immediately takes on the epitome of a bad idea. 

Kuroo stands next to the kitchen inlet, eyes closed with a hand braced on the counter top, the other hand gently cradling Akaashi’s jaw. It suddenly becomes a little too hard to breathe, a little too hard to keep his bearings, but as much as Bokuto tries to look away, his gaze remains fixated. Rooting him to the spot despite the bout of nausea at having seen how Akaashi looks when kissing someone else. 

His heart sinks, stomach twists, and the wreckage it leaves is too much for him to piece back together on his own. 

“Actually, I think I’m gonna go back to make sure Pud’s okay,” he says, closing the door behind him before his legs give out and he’s leaning against the barrier trying to make the world right side up again. Chest heaving, salt stinging his eyes. Wondering how he thought someone like Akaashi could ever see anything in him when someone like Kuroo exists. 

* * *

 

Kenma is outside on the balcony when Bokuto joins him later that night, the sniff he gives the only acknowledgement of the extra company. It’s chilly for the time of year it is, the air cold and heavy and permeating through the sweater he’s tugged around himself. A slight breeze blows through and he sees the shiver Bokuto tries to hide, even with the large blanket draped over him.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here like that,” Bokuto says glumly, though not without genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” Kenma responds, his fingers wrapping around the steaming mug as he stares out between the bars of the railing. Looking at nothing. Looking at everything. Doing both all at once. “I’m guessing you’re back here because it got a little crowded?”

“Am I that obvious?”

Kenma hints at a smile. “A little.”

“That was a good dinner, though, huh?” Bokuto’s attempt at lightheartedness is fragile at best. Forced and a little unnatural, considering. “You really outdid yourself with the noodles!”

“It was takeout.”

“Oh.”

It’s a few minutes before Kenma breaks the weighted silence. “Did you know Kuroo would be bringing him?”

“I didn’t even know they knew each other.” Bokuto’s voice wavers and Kenma turns in time to see the difficulty he has with swallowing. “My rotten luck.”

“Does Kuroo know Akaashi is the one you’ve been talking to?”

Bokuto shakes his head, worries the edge of his lip. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? Nothin’ was goin’ on with us; not really. I just feel dumb ‘cause of course he’d be seein’ someone. I mean, look at him.”

“You were right. He’s nice to look at.”

“Pud...”

Kenma hears the catch in his voice and suddenly, Bokuto’s self-imposed pity party is inconsequential compared to his instinct to protect his friend. Kenma shifts in his seat, tries to look like he doesn’t care, like nothing is bothering him, though he suspects Bokuto knows better. He's always been more observant than most people give him credit for, though Kenma supposes he hasn’t tried to hide how he feels as well as he should have either.

“He is,” Kenma says, ignoring the concern. “They match, I guess.”

“You guys match, too.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Because Kuroo is extraordinary. He always has been. And extraordinary people don’t fall in love with the ordinary.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Bokuto stands and whips off the blanket, draping it over Kenma’s thin shoulders. Then he wraps his arms around him and squeezes, the sigh that Bokuto breathes out mirroring the strange hollow sensation in Kenma’s chest. “I think you’re plenty extraordinary.”

“Thanks,” Kenma says, lips quirking before he takes a sip of his coffee.

“How long have you known?”

Kenma takes a minute before he responds. “What?”

“That you were in love with Tetsu?”

Without missing a beat, he says, “since always.” A long pause follows before he asks, “you knew?”

There’s a crack in the confession, splinters in the words, and Kenma realizes how it must sound, how bad of a liar he is while he’s tried to pretend it isn’t difficult to sit through it. To pretend he’s okay. To keep himself together for the sake of Kuroo’s happiness.

“Had an idea, but didn’t really know for sure ‘til I saw how you were at dinner tonight.” Bokuto lets him go and rumples his hair before taking seat on the other lounger. “'Always’ seems like a long time.”

“Yeah,” Kenma agrees with a quiet sigh, “it is.”

“Have you ever told him?”

Kenma casts his eyes to the side, thumbs absently twiddling together. “He confessed once. But no, I’ve never told.”

Shifting to his side, Bokuto faces Kenma, his childlike confusion endearing enough that Kenma feels less alone with his thoughts. Makes him a little more willing to elaborate.

“How did I not know this?!”

“I asked him not to tell anyone. I didn’t want it to be a big deal and I knew he’d move on and forget if I acted like it never happened.”

“But why?! You were already into him.”

Tucking his knees tighter against his chest, Kenma takes a moment to answer. Tries to find the most logical explanation that would make sense to someone else not inside his head. “He started experimenting with guys his last year of high school. I think he was trying to figure himself out, to see what he liked and didn’t like. None of the people he was ever with managed to stay friends. I guess that’s not something you can do when you’ve been with someone. Not Kuro, anyway.” He shrugs, attempts to make himself smaller. “Since we were kids, he and I have been friends. For a long time, he was my only friend. When I saw how his relationships had ended, I didn’t want that. I couldn’t risk it.”

“So you rejected him,” Bokuto says, his eyebrows drawing together with sympathy.

“And he didn’t fight me. He never mentioned it again. I think he thought he felt something and it went away, like I knew it would. I was glad,” Kenma whispers, sparing a glance at Bokuto. “Is that terrible?”

“No, ‘course that’s not terrible! But I don’t think you gave it enough of a shot. Is it really worth it? To see him with other people?”

“You don’t have to understand. I know it’s a little messed up. But our friendship was important. _Is_ important. I wanted to preserve it.” Kenma nods, a small sigh leaving a visible puff of air. “If he’s happy, yeah. It’s worth it.”

“Even if you’re not?”

“Even then.”

It’s a while later after Bokuto has gone home that Kenma hears a knock on the door. He wonders for a second if it’s Bokuto coming back for the leftovers from dinner he’d forgotten earlier, but then nixes the idea.

Bokuto would have let himself in regardless of the time.

That only leaves one person who would knock on Kenma’s door at two thirty in the morning. And it’s someone he’s not entirely sure he has the energy to talk to.

“Hey,” Kenma mumbles when he finally opens the door, his gaze drifting to the side, fingers absently tracing the grooves of the wooden frame.

“Hey.” Kuroo remains where he is, makes no move to come inside. Not without Kenma’s consent. Never without Kenma’s consent. Somehow Kenma senses that whatever it is that Kuroo thinks had happened at dinner means the consent has hit a snag, a barrier he feels he needs permission to breach. “Mind if I come in?”

Kenma steps aside, acknowledges the shift and gives a general wave of his hand to let Kuroo know it’s okay. “You don’t usually knock.”

It’s a few minutes before Kuroo answers, the way he sits on the edge of the sofa a little rigid, tense. Like he has something on his mind, something he’s having trouble putting to words. Kenma is usually a pretty good reader of what it is and if the anxious way Kuroo is wringing his hands is any indicator, he’s pretty sure he knows what this visit is about.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed a little off at dinner.”

“I have a deadline coming up.”

Kuroo’s eyes widen and with a snap of fingers, he chuckles. Flinches before he nods as though just remembering something he shouldn’t have forgotten. “That’s right. The game you were working on. How’s that going anyway?”

“I’m tired, Kuro.” Kenma presses his fingertips together and sinks into the beanbag chair opposite from where Kuroo sits. He draws his legs up, toes fidgeting against each other. A nervous habit. “You didn’t come here in the middle of the night to talk about my game.”

Kuroo laughs and runs a hand through the mess of bedhair. “You always did know me better than anyone else.”

“Did you leave Akaashi by himself?”

“Didn’t feel like stayin’ the night. He said he was supposed to go home to do something.”

“What do you want, Kuro?” Kenma’s gaze drifts back to the glow of the monitors behind him before it centers on Kuroo again. “I have to go back to work.”

“You didn’t seem okay. I wanted to make sure you were. I thought that maybe--” A sigh escapes. “You don’t like Akaashi.”

“Akaashi’s fine.” Pulling his knees up to his chest, Kenma bites the inside of his cheek and tilts his head. “Why would you think I don’t like him?”

“You barely talked at dinner--”

“I barely talk, period.”

“--and you kept getting up to grab something to drink every time he asked you a direct question--”

“I was thirsty.”

“--and when he complimented dinner, you looked personally offended.”

Kenma shifts guiltily. “It was mostly takeout.”

“Still,” Kuroo insists, the way his eyes soften when he addresses Kenma making the conversation harder to continue. “I feel weird about seeing someone you’re not okay with.”

It takes a considerable amount of effort to keep his voice from showing a trace of change. “He seems nice and you seem happy. That’s what matters. I’m actually really tired, though.” He exhales slowly and rises from his seat. “I'm going to bed. Lock up behind you.”

Before he’s gotten the chance to get more than a few steps toward the bedroom, Kuroo takes a hold of his wrist and reels him in. The hug isn’t unusual. Isn’t something out of the norm, but it takes Kenma by surprise anyway. Kuroo’s arms wrap around him, cinched tight and unwavering.

And it makes Kenma ache in a way he doesn’t expect.

“You matter more. You gotta know that, right? It’s important to me that you’re okay with him, kitten.”

Kenma tries to turn away, to squirm out of Kuroo’s grasp, but Kuroo only holds on tighter. Desperate.

He breathes out a sigh. “Why?”

Kuroo’s breath is warm against his neck. “Because you’re important.” The move back is only slight, just enough so that they’re face to face, sharing the same air. “Kenma, I--”

Then before Kenma realizes what’s happening, Kuroo is leaning in, forehead pressed against Kenma’s temple. 

“Kuro,” he mumbles, forcing a swallow. “It’s late. I think you should go.”

He catches a whiff of Kuroo’s cologne, listens to the break in his voice, the sadness there as Kuroo says, “I know. It’s late and I’m sorry.”

“I want you to be happy. That’s important to me.”

“Kitten...”

“He could be the love of your l--”

But Kuroo is already stepping back. “No, actually. He can’t. Someone alr-- you know what? It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head, a dry chuckle escaping as he makes a vague gesture on his way toward the door. “I’m sorry for keeping you from, you know--” He adjusts the collar of his shirt and the sound dies, his smile rueful. “--yeah. Anyway, get some rest.”

Kenma watches him leave, hears the click of the lock, stares at the door in silence. Wonders what exactly Kuroo meant before he shuffles back into his room and stays under the covers until the noise in his head dies down again.

*****

An hour later, no matter how hard Kenma tries, sleep refuses to come. He lays on the bed, eyes turned toward the ceiling, counting the miniature glow-in-the-dark stars dotting the smooth surface; a surprise from Kuroo when he first moved into the apartment. It reminds him of when they were kids and Kuroo had dragged him out into his backyard one clear night, pointing out stars and constellations he learned in class. Usually the memory warms him, but tonight it makes him ache. Makes the heaviness in his chest feel ten times worse, makes the reminder a little harder to bear.

His phone chimes on the nightstand, a loud buzz following as the device skitters close to the edge. Making a grab for it, he swipes at the too-bright screen, surprised at the text message. More so with who its sender is.

**Received From: kuro**  
[2:34] i’m sorry

Kenma stares at the characters on the screen, sighs, sets the phone to vibrate, and shoves it underneath his pillow. A few minutes later, it buzzes again, the vibration traveling through the thick cushion. He probably shouldn’t open it, shouldn’t entertain Kuroo’s unfounded guilt. 

He reads the text anyway.

**Received From: kuro**  
[2:42] are you okay?

He chews the edge of his lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but can’t find it in himself to respond. He is not okay. Far from it. But it’s not Kuroo’s fault. Kenma can’t blame him for something that is probably his own fault, even if he couldn’t have predicted it.

**Received From: kuro**  
[2:49] seriously getting worried now.

**Sent To: kuro**  
[2:50] don’t be  
[2:51] i’m fine

Something sits on the tip of Kenma’s tongue. Makes his fingers twitch wanting to ask even though he knows there’s a good chance he won’t like the answer.

**Sent To: kuro  
** [2:53] kuro?  
[2:54] are you happy?  
[2:55] with akaashi i mean

**Received From: kuro**  
[2:56] i could be happier

**Sent To: kuro**  
[2:57] don’t avoid the question

**Received From: kuro**  
[2:59] i’m  
[2:59] i’m not unhappy

The screen blurs, words swimming across as he rereads the last text. Kenma’s chest constricts, lips pressed together before he exhales slowly. Counts down from ten, just like Kuroo taught him to do when they were younger.

**Sent To: kuro**  
[3:02] good. i don’t want you to be unhappy  
[3:03] going to bed. night kuro

But he doesn’t sleep. Can’t sleep. Not with the words on the screen repeating themselves in his head behind lids shut so tight, they squeeze saltwater from their corners.

Kenma breathes. In and out, slow and steady. Keeps the phone grasped in his hand and tells himself that he’s glad Kuroo isn’t unhappy. Keeps telling himself until he doesn’t remember anything but the dark outline of his room and then nothing at all.


	3. The One With the Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto helps Kuroo with an unexpected task and Kenma contemplates making a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [**izayas**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/izayas/pseuds/izayas) and [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for being my extra pairs of eyes. ♥
> 
> **EDIT:** Russian translation [**here**](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4374628/11876085#part_content) by [**tanhianik**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tanhianik/pseuds/tanhianik).

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:04] sorry  
[11:05] idk y im sayin that but i feel like i need to  
[11:05] actually no i do know y

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:06] Why are you sorry?  
[11:06] You don’t have anything to be sorry about.  
[11:07] I have to admit, it was a surprise seeing you last night though.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:09] ur seein one of my best friends  
[11:10] n ive been sayin things i shouldnt have  
[11:11] shouldve known ud be taken so im sorry

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:12] It’s fine, Bokuto-san.  
[11:12] I don’t think we did anything wrong. We were just talking.  
[11:13] Besides, Kuroo-san and I haven't been seeing each other very long.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:15] still it feels wrong yknow?  
[11:16] hes my friend  
[11:17] hope i didnt make anything weird

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:18] Not at all.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:25] ok good whew  
[11:26] have a good day though ok? dont work too hard!

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:28] Thanks, I’ll try.

 

* * *

 

**Received From: akaashi**  
[9:44] Is everything okay?

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[9:57] um yeah why?

**Received From: akaashi**  
[9:59] I haven’t heard from you in a few days.  
[10:00] I thought maybe something was wrong.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:23] everythings good

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:25] That’s good.  
[10:26] There’s a new owl documentary I found on Hulu.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:26] arent u hangin out with tetsu tonight?

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:27] Yeah, he’s in the restroom. We’re just leaving Kozume-kun’s.  
[10:29] Are you sure everything’s okay? You seem off.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:55] nah im good but im about to go to bed  
[10:56] u kids enjoy ur night!

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:57] All right. Sleep well, Bokuto-san.

 

* * *

 

**Received From: akaashi**  
[9:47] Someone hasn’t seen your face on Skype in a while.  
[9:48] _9.img_

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:36] aww haha i miss the little guy  
[10:38] did u srsly just send me a pic of soren tho??

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:39] Got your attention didn’t it? :)

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[10:52] ITS SOREN DUH  
[10:53] gdi now i wanna watch the movie

**Received From: akaashi**  
[10:55] We could?  
[10:56] If you want.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:11] wish i could but i got an early appt tmrw

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:14] Yeah.  
[11:15] Your last text came in at 11:11

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:16] oh it did haha  
[11:16] is that supposed to mean somethin?

**Received From: akaashi**  
[11:17] Never mind, it’s nothing.   
[11:18] Get some rest, Bokuto-san.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[11:25] yeah u 2 akaashi

 

* * *

 

It isn’t easy finding time for breaks, especially not with Kenma’s preliminary deadline for the new storyboard he’s been commissioned to oversee looming over his head. He finds he misses his sofa more each time he lays down to take a few minutes here and there only to get up again and continue working. 

He’s grateful, at least, that his scarce periods of downtime have been considerably quiet, uninterrupted save for the few instances Bokuto manages to come in and keep him company. Tell him random stories of things that happens at the gym or with new clients who think they can handle the equipment without proper instructions. 

Weeks have passed since the dinner with Akaashi and thankfully, Kenma has only been required to make nice in similar situations twice more since then. Once, for his birthday, though he attempted to get out of it by saying he should be able to play video games all day if he wanted, but Kuroo had insisted. Had wanted him to get “normal human interaction”, even if only for a few hours. The second time had been unavoidable, too, considering it was Kuroo’s birthday. He’d always spent the day with Kuroo since they were younger, a tradition of sorts, but this year -- this year, dinner with Bokuto and Akaashi was included and Kenma had tried to keep from looking sullen at the extra company. 

It was Kuroo’s day, after all. Ruining it for any reason had been out of the question. Even if it meant having to sit through the sly glances, the not so subtle flirting, the lingering gestures.

His only other interactions with Akaashi had been limited to brief visits when Akaashi had waited in his apartment while Kuroo took his time getting home. Those weren’t as horrible as he first imagined; on the contrary, they seemed almost nice in a way. They’d bonded, for lack of a better word, over _Game of Thrones_ of all things, and Kenma couldn’t help but notice the unlimited supply of questions Akaashi had. Not about Kuroo, which would have been uncomfortable though understandable, but about Bokuto instead.

It saddens him a little that if not for their current situation, there might have been an opportunity to make a new friend in Akaashi. But things don’t ever work out the way he wants. His predicament with Kuroo is a testament to that.

Kenma sighs and sets down his fresh mug of coffee, reclining back on the sofa just as his door bangs open and in saunters Kuroo himself, face flushed from his morning run. He putters around, doubtless pouring half the coffee decanter into his mug, before he calls out, “Kitten? You up?”

While he contemplates for a long second before responding, Kenma begrudgingly lifts his hand in a halfhearted show that he is, in fact, up. If only to keep Kuroo from draining the fresh pot he’s made. “Don’t drink all the coffee.”

“What if I make you a new pot instead?” Kuroo asks with a chuckle, the sound cut off when he takes an audible sip. 

“Isn’t there a Starbucks on your route somewhere?”

“I already don’t get to see you enough and you wanna schlup me off to the chains? Come on, kitten. Be nice. I just came over to see you.”

Kenma snorts. “What do you need?”

“I’m offended! Who says I need something?”

“What do you need, Kuro?”

Before Kuroo has the chance to respond, the door opens again, Bokuto’s voice ringing throughout the large space. “Ohhh, coffee! I could definitely use a cup of that!”

“Early morning, Bo?”

“Yeah, had a few appointments at ass o’clock. But at least I got a good workout in! Hey Pud, you hidin’ behind the couch again?” Bokuto laughs, pours himself a cup, and plants himself on the beanbag chair opposite from where Kenma is curled up. “How’s the new storyboard goin’?”

“Hey! Did you seriously take the last cup of coffee without bothering to make more?!”

Kenma peeks from his position and stifles a grin at the disgruntled expression Kuroo wears as Kuroo shoots Bokuto an exasperated glare.

“You were already standin’ there,” Bokuto counters, taking a sip from his mug, eyes wide and mouth quirking innocently. “Be a pal, huh?”

“Okay, fine. I swear, sometimes you take advantage just ‘cause I’m a nice guy.” After Kuroo finishes loading the new batch, he makes his way over to the couch and slides his mug next to Kenma’s on the coffee table. He stretches out in front of him with no room left between them.

Kenma wrinkles his nose reproachfully, shifting his position so that Kuroo’s head is on his lap instead. “You need a shower.” 

“What? Not into eau de sweat?” Kuroo jokes before clearing his throat, the change in tone tentatively leading into, “so, I need a second opinion.”

Kenma and Bokuto exchange glances before Kenma hums, fingers idly running through Kuroo’s hair. “Pay up, Bo.”

With a petulant grumble, Bokuto digs into his pocket before pulling out bills from his wallet and handing them over. “Damn it! How’d you know he was gonna ask for somethin’?!”

“Second nature,” comes Kenma’s response as he reaches for the money, causing Kuroo to grunt when Kenma’s weight presses over him at the action. When Kenma resumes his previous position, fingers tangled in Kuroo’s unruly strands, Kuroo practically purrs from the soothing gesture. It almost makes Kenma laugh with how much of a cat Kuroo resembles then. “So, what's the first opinion you need us to negate?”

“I didn’t say anything about negating it!” Kuroo argues, the pitch of his voice a little too high to go unnoticed and causing Bokuto to dribble coffee down his chin like he’s forgotten how to drink from a cup. “It’s just-- okay, so Akaashi’s birthday is comin’ up. And I got him a thing that seemed like a good idea at the time, but every time I look at it, the ‘good’ part of the idea seems not so good.”

“I smell an understatement. And it stinks almost as much as you do.”

“Okay, fine, it’s pretty lame! I wasn’t thinkin’; just sort of bought the first thing that popped into my head. But I don’t want him to think I got it ‘cause I wanted to get laid.”

Kenma’s insides seize, as do his fingers. Of course Kuroo would get Akaashi something for his birthday. They were dating. It’s what people do when they’re dating. Except Kenma tries really, really hard to forget that very important detail whenever he’s around Kuroo, and Akaashi is nowhere in the vicinity. Besides, he isn’t particularly in the mood to think about Kuroo in certain situations that make Kenma want to curl up in some forgotten corner with his trusty PsP.

Kuroo slaps Kenma’s leg, effectively breaking him out of his thoughts, the playful gesture preceding the way he leans his head back a fraction to indicate he wants Kenma to continue with whatever he was doing. Ignoring the sympathetic glance from Bokuto, Kenma obliges and weaves through Kuroo’s disheveled bedhead once more. 

“What did you get him?” Bokuto ventures, looking much too preoccupied with his coffee cup than necessary. 

“You gotta promise you won’t laugh.”

“Saying that almost always backfires, Kuro.” Kenma doesn’t stop what he’s doing; on the contrary, he increases the pressure, lifting his hand so the dark strands filter between his fingers. A small noise emits from Kuroo. A sigh of sorts, contented and relaxed. “If you got him a vibrator, I can’t promise I won’t laugh.”

Kuroo chokes. As does Bokuto. Kenma almost feels bad for the errant comment. 

Almost.

“No! What the hell, Kenma? Why would I get him a vibrator if I’m trying to get laid?”

“So you admit you got whatever it is so he’d sleep with you.”

“That’s not what I m--” Kuroo’s relaxed state is short-lived, replaced by a slight exasperation as he drags a hand over his face. “Never mind. You guys are no help.”

“Pud’s just yankin’ your chain,” Bokuto says, but Kenma doesn’t miss the amusement in the fleeting glance he spares his way. “Now, come on, spit it out. What’d you get him?”

Kenma glances down to find Kuroo’s ears tinged a noticeable pink. He almost doesn’t want to know, but gives the dark strands a tug to prompt Kuroo to say it anyway. 

“All right, all right,” Kuroo says, sheepish. “I got him edible massage oil.”

Exchanging a look with Bokuto, Kenma clears his throat and blinks. “You got him--”

“--edible massage oil?” Bokuto finishes, clearly torn between hilarity and maybe a hint of the nausea Kenma feels as images of how Kuroo would use the gift flicker in his head like some kind of badly made torture propaganda. “That’s lame, even for you, bro.”

“I told you,” Kuroo grumbles, his cheek nudging against Kenma’s lap. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I’m not going to pick out things to help you seduce your boyfriend, Kuro.” Without warning, Kenma gets up under the pretense of topping off his now lukewarm coffee, Kuroo’s head promptly dropping on the couch cushion with a satisfying thump.

“Hey--!” Grumbling, Kuroo grabs one of the throw pillows instead, shooting Kenma a reproachful scowl. “Could’ve given me a warning, kitten.”

“I thought you had quick reflexes,” Kenma says with a shrug. 

Bokuto seems to be considering something, eyebrows creasing before he says, “he likes owls. One of my clients can get me a deal on this one collectible he might like.”

Kuroo perks up at the suggestion, pushing himself up with a soft grunt. “Yeah? That’d be kinda perfect, actually.” Then he downs half of his coffee mug before he grins. “Knew I could count on you! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner. You guys and your owls, I swear.” He snorts. “Totally slipped my mind that you two had that in common.”

“What are friends for, right?” Bokuto asks, forcing a smile that falls short of his eyes, much too bright to be genuine. 

Kenma doesn’t miss the way Bokuto glumly stares at the contents of his own cup, the subtle frown that replaces the smile something Kenma knows only too well.

_Yeah, what are friends for._

 

* * *

 

Coming home on a Thursday evening is usually one of Bokuto’s favorite things. Thursdays is when he helps out at the youth center teaching a couple of the neighborhood kids a thing or two about volleyball. The sessions always leave him in a spectacular mood, even if this particular one was a little more bruising than usual.

Apparently, this Thursday is not going to be one of those days.

It had been almost a week since he’s last seen Akaashi for more than a few minutes before he’s found some random excuse to leave. At first, he thought it might not be so bad, might even be fun now that he has someone who’s into the same stuff he’s into that Kuroo wouldn’t tease. But the second time he’d walked in on them mid-heavy-makeout when he came home early one night gutted him something fierce.

He’s made careful decisions not to repeat that ever again.

Aside from being exhausted beyond recognition, it also hadn’t helped that he realized too late that grocery shopping was his turn this week. Driving to the store half-zombied out with limbs threatening mutiny isn’t exactly on his list of favorite things to do, right up there with scouring every aisle in the market twice and then a third time just to be sure when Kuroo had texted him to pick up some of Kenma’s favorite candy. 

Trying to do a nice thing sometimes sucks, but Kenma’s grown increasingly more withdrawn the longer Akaashi and Kuroo stay together. Bokuto had hoped the candy would cheer him up and put Kuroo back in his good graces because having to play referee between them is getting a little tiring in itself. 

Shouldering the door to the apartment open, he winces as the ache on the joint there intensifies from the force. A couple of paper grocery bags are cradled in his arms and he nearly drops them when his foot catches on the door stopper Kuroo has left laying around in the middle of the floor. Bokuto glares at it like it's the sole reason his whole day had gone from bad to worse to DEFCON 5, but he deflates, the weight of the groceries taking its toll and making his already jellyfied arms feel even more useless. 

Muffled sounds come from Kuroo’s room as Bokuto comes closer, his original intention to tell Kuroo that the candy is a no go and he’s going to have to find another way to butter Kenma up. Bokuto chuckles just outside the door, wonders if Kuroo had fallen asleep mid-movie like he always does and attempts to fish out his phone from his side pocket to snap a picture just in case Kuroo is drooling or pitching a particularly embarrassing tent (in cases when he’s opted for porn instead). Blackmail material is always useful, he thinks with a muted snort, slowly easing the door open so he can catch him before Kuroo wakes up and realizes Bokuto is up to something. 

The door swings open, the creak of the hinges drowned out by a gasped moan. Akaashi, all long, lean lines of him, arches as he straddles Kuroo in a position Bokuto has only shamefully envisioned in his head more times than he’d care to admit. His hand braces against the wall, fingers fanned out, desperate to grasp purchase against the flat surface. His head is thrown back, body flushed and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, eyes partially hooded as Kuroo grips his hips in an iron hold mid-thrust.

Bokuto’s world tilts and the phone hits the floor with a loud clatter, the groceries in his arms nearly tumbling after it.

If there is a level above DEFCON 5, Bokuto thinks, this would definitely rank up there.

With the disruption he’s made, Akaashi turns toward him, disoriented and eyebrows furrowed. A broken moan draws out of him as the rough propulsion hits its mark, his confusion clear when it comes out as a breathless, “ _Bokuto-san_?”

“I-- _shit_! Sorry, um, I’m just gonna--” Then the door slams shut and Bokuto stumbles back, hears the roar in his ears, the drumming in his chest, feels the prickles that reach all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. The image sears into his memory and he palms his eyelids, forcing it to go away, to leave him alone while he attempts to put the groceries away. 

Barely managing to keep his bearings, Bokuto slides the bags on top of the kitchen counter, his large frame trembling. From shock, from embarrassment, from the complete mindfuck now permanently ingrained into his head, he’s not entirely sure. But it catches quick in his chest, snares whatever growing jealousy his self-control had managed to bury, and tries to rip it out of him in stuttered breaths.

He searches for his phone, hoping Kenma isn’t too busy because he’s positive that if he’s not already having a panic attack, then the next wave of hyperventilated breathing might be enough to do him in. Then he remembers where he’s left it. On the floor and probably shattered from the impact behind the bedroom door he’s run from like one of those mutant rodents he and Kuroo had found under their kitchen sink two summers before. 

_Fuck me, I just walked in on them havin’-- shit, shit, shit. My luck sucks. Oh, it sucks so bad. So, so bad._

Bokuto is still struggling to put away the remainder of the groceries when Akaashi finally emerges from Kuroo’s bedroom. Curls mussed and sticking out at odd angles, but thankfully clothed in an oversized t-shirt (probably Kuroo’s, he thinks glumly) and a pair of drawstring track pants a size too big. They look strikingly familiar and when Akaashi stops at the inlet to silently observe him, Bokuto realizes why. 

_They’re mine. He’s wearin’ my--_

Akaashi seems to get the picture before he gives him one of those smiles; quiet, withdrawn, a hint of utter humiliation veiled in his expression. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says, gesturing to the pants. “I saw them on Kuroo-san’s chair and slipped them on, but realized they probably weren’t his because of, well--”

Bokuto smiles. Reassuring. Wide and friendly and bright. Maybe a little too bright. “--the owl on the side. Total dead giveaway. And, no problem! He borrows my stuff all the time, so I guess it’s-- I mean, now you’re gonna, um... anyway, I didn’t know you were gonna be here! Where’s Tetsu?”

_Why does he gotta look so good in my clothes...?_

Akaashi points to Kuroo’s bedroom, cheeks subtly tinged pink. “He had to take a call after we, um-- his old coach, I think. But he was really tired earlier, so I think he’s going to take a nap.” He pauses, hands wringing together, and the gesture triggers something in Bokuto, jump starts the guilt twisting his gut and makes him hate that Akaashi’s hesitancy, his nervousness is something Bokuto has undoubtedly caused. “About what you saw...”

But Bokuto interrupts, his palms clammy at the thought of where the conversation is heading. So instead, he ventures for a casual, “left ya here to fend for yourself, huh?”

“I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself,” Akaashi says, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes making it difficult for Bokuto to concentrate. His hands are still clasped together, but it’s clear by his noticeable relief that what Bokuto had walked in on isn’t something he wants to talk about either. “I found that old owl documentary you were telling me about on Netflix. Thank you for recommending it.”

“Oh, right!” Glancing awkwardly at the open refrigerator, it’s a wonder that Bokuto has managed to put things where they’re supposed to be when his brain is barely functional enough to form coherent sentences. “Glad you’re liking it!”

“You could’ve still watched it with me, you know.”

“Well, ya know, early mornings and stuff. Can’t really stay up that late anymore.” With a casual side glance, Bokuto continues the mundane task, hoping to get his mind off of the image that repeats itself in his head like some horrific vine clip he can’t stop from looping. He nearly drops the carton of eggs as he tries to hurry, relieved that his old reflexes still work like a charm despite his injured shoulder. “Are you guys hangin’ out today?”

“We’re supposed to after he wakes up. I don’t know what he has planned, but maybe you can come join us for dinner? Have you eaten?”

“Uh! Um, yeah, before I got home,” Bokuto says, the guilt intensifying over the white lie. Purposely avoiding having to hang out with Akaashi is no easy feat, especially when Kuroo’s been badgering him about it. He figures, better to avoid trouble before it’s too late. And hanging out with Akaashi would definitely be trouble, especially after what he’s just witnessed. “I, uh, got somewhere I gotta go tonight, but you guys have fun, though!”

He’s so focused on trying to get what remains of the groceries put away that he doesn’t notice Akaashi is behind him until he speaks.

“Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto jumps, the net of apples he’s holding dropping on the floor and causing them all to fall out and roll every which way. “Shit! I’m-- hold on,” he says, fumbling to pick up the fruit and managing to get them all before Akaashi continues.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“What-- no! That’s stupid; why would I be avoiding you?!”

“I asked myself the same question, but I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure.”

Akaashi pauses and when Bokuto chances a look at him, his eyebrows are knitted together and his teeth worries along the edge of his bottom lip. Bokuto nearly has a meltdown as he tries not to think about Akaashi lips. How they’d parted and gasped, the neutral bow unraveling. Or about his eyes and how hazy and unfocused they’d been, half-lidded in anticipation. But most of all he tries not to think of how Akaashi is beautiful even like that, even like this. Painfully curious and subtly apprehensive as he tries to make sense of Bokuto’s illogical logic.

“I-I’ve just been, y’know, busy...” he stammers, purposely redirecting his attention back to the bruised fruit, “...and stuff.”

“’And stuff’. Right.” Akaashi’s voice catches at the last word and something inside of Bokuto clenches. Aches in a different way his shoulder does. “I just thought, I don’t know, maybe you didn’t approve of me and Kuroo-san.”

“That’s-- you-- ha! I mean, what’s there not to approve? You’re amazing! I mean together; you guys are amazing together!” Shoving the remaining items into the refrigerator, he makes every attempt not to palm his face at least until he’s in the comfort of his own room. He straightens up and, in his panicked hurry, nearly knocks into Akaashi. “I-- whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-- I’m, uh--” His poor excuse of a response is cut off by the pain that shoots down his arm. He winces and immediately sidesteps around Akaashi toward his room, careful not to look at him. “I should probably, um, go--”

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for the birthday gift.”

Bokuto freezes, momentarily confused. “Huh? Oh,” he says, palming his nape and feeling oddly embarrassed since Kuroo had suggested he give Akaashi the edible massage oil so the gift doesn’t go to waste. “It was nothing. I mean, you never know when you’re gonna, um, need edible massage oil, right?”

“The Gylfie plush?” Akaashi’s fingers have taken to fidgeting again, but the faint smile he wears is enough to keep Bokuto staring, transfixed, until Akaashi clears his throat and brings him back to his senses. “I sort of figured out that Kuroo-san wasn’t behind it.”

“What are you talking about? That was totally all Tets--”

“It’s okay, Bokuto-san. You don’t have to lie. It was a nice gesture all the same.”

“How did you know?”

“’Edible massage oil’ has Kuroo-san written all over it,” Akaashi says with a soft chuckle. Bokuto wonders if this is what it feels like when his heart and his brain simultaneously malfunction because if anything can inadvertently cause it, he’s pretty sure Akaashi’s laughter is right up there. “Besides, there was only person who could’ve known about the Gylfie limited edition plush that was sold out everywhere.”

“That obvious, huh? You still could’ve told Tetsu without meaning to,” Bokuto halfheartedly counters, though he knows the argument is already in Akaashi’s favor. He hopes he doesn’t get Kuroo in trouble by admitting to it, even if it was by accident.

“I won’t tell him I know. I just,” Akaashi says and sighs, gives him another smile, albeit sadder this time around. “I wanted to let you know that I appreciated it. To thank you for being so thoughtful. It must have been hard to get.”

Bokuto smiles, sheepish and slightly embarrassed, but genuine all the same. “Some things are worth the effort, I guess. I’m glad you liked it.” The color high on Akaashi’s cheeks reminds Bokuto of the earlier scenario and suddenly, the awkwardness returns in full force, knocking the wind out of him. He takes an involuntary step back. “I do have to, uh-- I should go--”

“This is going to sound like a really weird question, but how close are Kuroo-san and Kozume-kun?”

Pausing to scratch his cheek, Bokuto says, “really close, why? They’ve been best friends since grade school, I think.”

“ _Just_ friends?” Akaashi ventures, something in his voice not sounding quite right.

“As far as I know. Look, if you’re worried about Kenma, he’s harmless. As long as you don’t fuck up on Tetsu, I think you’ll be good.” Then out of curiosity, he asks, “why? Did somethin’ happen to make it not seem that way?”

“Not really, I guess. We were having dinner one night and he got a text from Kozume-kun. The next thing I know, he’s telling me he has to go. He didn’t really explain why and he never brought it up again. It’s happened a few other times since then, so I suppose I was curious.”

“Oh.” Bokuto almost launches into an explanation before he catches himself. It’s not really his place to say anything, even if he can barely handle the pensive expression Akaashi now wears. The way he bites his lower lip and fiddles with his fingers, the shadow of his lashes as they fan out against his cheeks when he lowers his gaze. “Tetsu’s always had a soft spot for him, I guess? Kenma, he’s-- well, maybe you should ask Tetsu about it. Not really for me to explain, ya know?”

“Did you mess up your shoulder again?”

Bokuto jumps at the voice and whirls around to find Kuroo walking out of his bedroom. The sudden action makes the pain worse and he tries to smile through it, hoping his secondary reaction is convincing enough. “You’re up! And it’s just a minor thing. Nothin’ a hot shower won’t fix!”

Kuroo looks slightly perturbed, disheveled and tired, though Bokuto has a few ideas about how he managed to achieve the rumpled look. It makes him more than a little nauseous. 

“Couldn’t sleep after that call,” Kuroo says, running a hand through his hair without much luck. “Sorry about earlier, by the way. I gotta keep rememberin’ to put the sock on the door handle when my room’s off limits. But hey, maybe Akaashi can help with that--”

“WHAT?! I MEAN, THAT’S--” Bokuto immediately stops talking when he realizes he’s misunderstood.

“--by givin’ you a massage. What did you think I meant?”

“That’s okay. I’m fine, really,” Bokuto insists, eyeing his bedroom door. Almost there. Then he can get changed and maybe hang out at Kenma’s for the rest of the night while he tries not to think about things he should definitely not be thinking about.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Akaashi says, and Bokuto freezes. “It’d be on the house, of course.”

“I don’t wanna put you out. My shoulder’s really not that ba-- _ahhhhhh, shit_.” Pain jolts through his arm, turns the affected nerves into sharp pin-pricks that seem just as likely to leave him alone as his dismal recount of Kuroo’s extracurricular activities. In hindsight, turning his shoulder as a demonstration is definitely something he shouldn’t have done, but judging from the looks he receives from both Kuroo and Akaashi, he knows there’s no getting out of it now.

“It’s settled, then. Maybe you can even get an appointment tomorrow afternoon after you wrap up at the gym.” Kuroo turns to Akaashi. “You think you can fit him in?”

Bokuto bites his tongue to refrain from shouting out “that’s what she said!”, the accidental reminder of the phrase and its most recent uses causing his palette to sour.

Again, Akaashi gives Bokuto that same quiet smile that turns his insides into some weird, confusing, twisting mess. “I think I can manage, yeah.”

 

*****

 

A short while later, Bokuto wakes from his nap on Kenma’s couch to find the apartment dark and empty. He hadn’t really expected to be entertained; Kenma had been busy with layouts for the new project he was working on and though he suspects Kenma was well aware of the reason he was there, no one said anything. No one mentioned the big, gaudy purple elephant pirouetting around with things neither of them really wanted to bring up. 

He stares at the ceiling for a while, listening to the sound of his own breathing. It calms him a little, even though the reprieve is short-lived as the image from earlier pops back into his head and Bokuto is right where he started. Envious, a bit resentful, and overwhelmingly guilty that he feels either of them at all. 

Akaashi isn’t his; he never was. It dawns on Bokuto that he’s spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to convince himself of that one fact, that his initial attraction had been fleeting and his attraction now is only directly caused by Akaashi’s unfair genetics (seriously, how does someone walk around _looking_ like that?!). But the more he mulls over it, the more he’s come to see that physical attraction may not be the only factor. And the thought, the acceptance of it, leaves him unsettled and wishing he could be strong enough to resist it. 

He can’t ever remember having been put in a position where he’s actively trying not to think about it, trying to reboot himself so that he no longer feels whatever it is that keeps him up at night, that makes him ache with the constant presence of it. But despite the effort, after witnessing what he’s seen, the answer stares him down. Mocks him. Taunts him. Makes him want something he can never have.

Groaning as he swings his legs over the edge of the sofa, he glances around and for a second, he thinks Kenma might have gone out. But one look outside and he spots a familiar head of hair out on the balcony. He stretches out, albeit a little painfully, before he goes outside to join him.

When he’s made himself comfortable, Kenma’s barely audible sniff the only indication that his presence has been acknowledged, Bokuto clears his throat before he tentatively asks, “Hey, Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“How do I know if I’m falling for someone?” His eyebrows crease as he draws his knees up to his chest.

“I’ve seen you look at him,” Kenma says without bothering to beat around the bush, his legs mimicking the action as he wraps his arms around them. “I think you already have.”

“Damn,” Bokuto says glumly. He glances at Kenma from his peripheral. “Is this what it feels like when you see him with Akaashi?”

“And every other person he’s ever been with.”

“Since always?”

“Since always.”

Resting his chin on the bends of his knees, Bokuto chances a look at Kenma. Hopeful. “Does it ever get any better?”

With a quiet exhale, Kenma shakes his head, bites his lip. “...sometimes, I guess. When I have distractions like work or a new game. It helps when I don’t have to be around it. But then I do and it comes back worse than before, so I guess not. At least, not for me.”

“Have you tried telling him?”

Again, Kenma shakes his head. “We’re too dependent on each other. I don’t want him to be with me because he’s afraid he’ll lose me. That’ll... hurt. More than it already does, I think.”

“You don’t know that, Pud. Why don’t you just tell him?”

“Because,” Kenma says, tugging the blanket tighter around him. It swallows him up, leaves just a fraction of his face and a tuft of black and blond hair visible. Bokuto knows the feeling, feels it in the same way something else less tangible tries to swallow him up as well. “I want him to be happy. It’s the only thing I want. I can’t chance ruining everything if and when he realizes that I wasn’t what he wanted after all. And he will. Realize it, I mean.”

It strikes Bokuto as strange that Kenma would think so little of himself. For as long as he’s known him, Kenma has been one of the few who is truly loyal, truly in tune with those he cares about. Even if he’s a little withdrawn, a little more withheld than others Bokuto has allowed into his orbit. Denying himself the one thing that would make him happy -- Bokuto isn’t sure if he understands it entirely, though thinking about Akaashi has broadened his perspective just the slightest bit. 

He could do that, be like Kenma. Even at the cost of his own happiness, he thinks, if it means Akaashi would be. 

“It’s not the only thing you want,” Bokuto says, pushing a little more, but stops short when he sees Kenma bite his lip, shrink into himself. Instead, he redirects with, “how do you know he won’t be happy with you?”

It’s then Kenma gives him a rueful smile - sad and knowing and so very self-deprecating that Bokuto empathizes. “Because I’m me.”


	4. The One With the Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Bokuto, sometimes doing the right thing doesn't feel like the right thing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [**izayas**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/izayas/pseuds/izayas) and [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for being my extra pairs of eyes. ♥
> 
> **EDIT:** Russian translation [**here**](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4374628/12376080#part_content) by [**tanhianik**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tanhianik/pseuds/tanhianik).

The spa where Akaashi works is located in the more upscale part of town and as soon as Bokuto enters, he feels completely out of place.

His head throbs, a dull ache lingering near his right temple. He’d almost considered canceling that morning, considers it again as he stands in the middle of the waiting area and tries not to picture what he’d seen in Kuroo’s bedroom the day before. He almost bails from the appointment altogether, but as his horrible luck would have it, he’s spotted before he can make an inconspicuous exit.

A friendly-looking girl sits behind the large reception desk, gives him a smile before asking his name. He’s so distracted by the different paintings on the wall that it takes him a minute before he realizes he’s supposed to answer. “Uh, Bokuto Koutarou. I’m here to see Akaashi.”

“Of course, sir. Please have a seat. Akaashi-san is finishing up with his previous appointment, but he should be right out.”

While he’s glad for the extra time to calm his nerves, it immediately dawns on him that he’s forgotten to check if he’s worn undergarments that doesn’t scream ‘low-end bum’. Checking to make sure the receptionist isn’t looking, he tugs the waistband of his track pants and looks down just as he hears a familiar,

“Bokuto-san?”

The elastic snaps back and he grimaces, biting back some choice words before directing his gaze up at Akaashi. “Oh hey! I-- that wasn’t what it looked like. Well, okay, yeah, it probably looks like I was just-- I, um--”

Akaashi laughs, the sound quiet like Bokuto’s heard in his head a thousand times. “I saw nothing,” he says solemnly and gestures toward the door he emerged from. “The rooms are this way.”

“R-Right, lead the way!” He clamps a hand over his mouth and drops his voice to a whisper. “Sorry, is that too loud? I’m a little nervous; I’ve never been to one of these places before.”

“You’re fine, Bokuto-san. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Trailing behind Akaashi, Bokuto wonders if Akaashi would still say the same if he knew what Bokuto was thinking.

A short while later, Bokuto has managed to yank all his clothes off and get under the thin sheet before he hears a soft knock from outside the room.

“Bokuto-san, are you ready?”

“Y-Yeah!” he calls out, before cringing at how much louder he sounds inside the small room. Positioning his face against the donut cushion, he takes a deep breath as he hears Akaashi shuffle inside. “I left my boxer-briefs on ‘cause I wasn’t sure if I had to take off everything or if it’d be weird if I just went full-on commando or--”

“You’re fine. However much you want to leave on is up to your comfort and preference.”

“Okay, cool. I just didn’t know if--”

It’s then he feels the sheet pulled back just enough to expose his entire back. The edges are tucked into his waistband and a moment later, something warm drips onto his skin and he shuts his eyes. Tries not to think about what’s coming next.

Akaashi’s fingers are surprisingly warm. Bokuto remembers trying not to stare at them during that first dinner, remembers thinking how beautiful his hands were until his thoughts had led to what they could be doing to his friend and the daydreaming abruptly stopped. But now -- now they’re pressed against him, the pads of Akaashi’s thumbs kneading into the small of his back before slowly ascending all the way to the top of his spine. Warm palms spread out over his shoulders, thumbs digging into the knots as they finish the motion.

“You’re really tense. Try to relax. I’m going to work on the other parts of your back before I put focus on your injured shoulder. Is that all right?”

Bokuto barely manages a groan of acknowledgement when he feels fingers work through a particularly stubborn knot. A weird sensation follows and then a subtle sense of relief. Akaashi seems to take the cue well and moves on to another part of his back, hands firm but gentle.

“Is the pressure okay? I can go harder if you’d like?”

The turn of phrase makes Bokuto’s brain short circuit for a second, makes the heat rise in his face despite being face-down. “The, um, pressure’s fine. Pressure’s good.”

Akaashi hums in response, says nothing else for the duration of the service, save for the brief instances when he’s giving Bokuto instructions. The last one, a stretch in which Bokuto holds on to Akaashi’s wrists as he’s arced back, causes an involuntary grunt to escape. Bokuto wonders if embarrassment is a legitimate cause of spontaneous combustion.

When the session is through, Akaashi steps around to Bokuto’s side, mouth quirking with a hint of a smile. “Try not to do any strenuous exercise or heavy lifting for a day or two. If your shoulder is still bothering you, I can book you another session.”

“Sounds great,” Bokuto says as he rolls his shoulder, pleasantly surprised that the pain has ebbed away to a dull ache. Now if the throbbing in his head would only follow suit. He winces. “Seriously, though. Thanks for doing this. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Akaashi pauses, casts his eyes to the side, before he clears his throat. “Would you maybe like to get dinner after? My shift is over in fifteen minutes and I haven’t eaten all day.”

“I--” While a part of him wants to say yes, wants to make sure Akaashi properly eats and maybe reprimand him for going without food for so long, the other part, the part that feeds a guilt he doesn’t even know the reason for, tells him it would probably not be a good idea. “I have something to do after this.”

“Oh.”

Bokuto is surprised at the hint of disappointment in Akaashi’s response. Maybe it’s the expression that Akaashi wears or that Bokuto feels responsible for it, but his headache seems to want to associate his emotional turmoil with a physical manifestation. His brows pinch as he manages a slightly strained, “aren’t you hangin’ out with Tetsu tonight?”

“A little later, yeah. Why do you ask?” Akaashi bites the corner of his bottom lip, eyebrows creasing as he leans in a fraction. “Are you all right, Bokuto-san? Does your shoulder still hurt?”

But Bokuto shakes his head, sure that his self control would likely be unable to handle another round of Akaashi’s hands working their magic. “It’s just a small headache. Had it when I got here, but I thought it’d go away by itself.”

“I can help,” Akaashi says, tentative. “If you want.”

“Um--”

“You don’t have to get back on the table. It’s just-- well, here, let me show you.”

“Are ya sure that’s a good idea?”

“Probably not, but I know I can help alleviate it.” Akaashi shows him his hands, gazes expectantly. “Let me?”

With a resigned sigh, Bokuto nods, wincing again as something sharp twinges at his left temple. “What do I need to do?”

“Close your eyes.”

Bokuto does as he’s told, inhales slowly, deeply, and waits. Fingertips press lightly over his temples, rub against them in a circular motion. It’s soothing, calming not only his jumpy nerves, but the dull pounding in his head. As the pressure increases, the tension lessens, gives him a sense of relief.

Until his stomach betrays him and emits a low gurgle. Bokuto’s eyes immediately open, widen in embarrassment.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t be up for dinner?” Akaashi asks quietly. “It sounds like you’re hungry.”

“It just, I don’t know, feels a little weird to go out with you-- NOT THAT WE’RE GOING _OUT_ OUT-- but it’s just, well... you’re seeing him later and he’s my friend-- not that you’re not my friend, too! Fuck me, I need to stop talkin’ so much ‘cause I have a feeling it’s gonna turn out stupid at some point and--” Keeping his eyes off of Akaashi’s mouth proves a much harder task than he originally thought. Especially when it’s close. So close that he feels the warmth of Akaashi’s breaths, can almost taste the hint of mint.

“I understand what you mean,” Akaashi says, leaning in enough that Bokuto can see how long and thick his lashes are, how they curl and fan against his cheeks when he blinks before they fall half-lidded again. “We probably shouldn’t--”

Bokuto swallows, feels his breath catch in his throat as Akaashi’s scent mixes with the smell of oils still lingering in the room. “Yeah, we shouldn’t--”

His brain fogs, the blur making him a little disoriented, out of his element. At the last second, he thinks of Kuroo, of all the times he’s pulled through for Bokuto, all the times he’s pulled him out of tight spots, made sure he didn’t spiral during mood swings more severe than others. How, if he goes through with whatever his hormone-addled brain is wanting to do, it would ruin one of the best friendships in his life, change a constant as steady as a rock. 

Bokuto snaps backwards, the fog in his head clearing enough to feel guilty about the thing he hasn’t done but had come very close to doing.

“I think I should get dressed, so that I’m not, uh, late to my... thing,” he manages, scrambling to get off the massage table. In his hurry, the sheet wrapped around him snags against something sticking out on the table’s edge and he loses his footing, tumbles forward, lands right on top of Akaashi. Their faces collide, foreheads knocking and noses bumping together like one of those cartoons he used to watch as a kid, but the sharp throb from the impact isn’t what gets his attention. It isn’t the metallic smell that hits his nostrils, not the copper in his mouth from when his teeth cut into the inside of his lip that simultaneously make his heart jump and stomach drop.

He stills, the few seconds their lips had accidentally brushed leaving him tingling, slightly euphoric, reluctant to pull back. But panic sets in when it dawns on him that he’s just accidentally kissed Akaashi and the thought leaves him with a tsunami-sized wave of guilt.

“SHIT, BRO CODE!”

“Bokuto-san--”

“Oh god, this is bad. This is so, so bad--”

“Bokuto-san--”

“--Kuroo’s gonna kill me! I broke the code. I am the worst friend ever and he’s never gonna talk to me again and--”

“ _Koutarou_.”

“--huh?”

Throat clearing, Akaashi glances sidelong and Bokuto realizes he’s still on top him. He quickly scrambles off, mouth opened in abject humiliation. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to lay on you--” He flinches and tries again. “--fall on you! I meant fall on you. Accidentally. Or stay there. I didn’t mean to do that either--”

Akaashi manages to pull himself up now that Bokuto’s weight is no longer pinning him down. He smooths out his shirt. “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” With a strained smile, his gaze drops south and when Bokuto follows his line of sight, he’s immediately reminded that when he went down, the sheet definitely hadn’t followed. “You should probably put your clothes back on.”

Bokuto’s hands cover himself in less time than it takes for him to stumble through an embarrassed apology. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to--” he stammers, dragging his hand down his face. “I wasn’t tryin’ to, you know, flash you or anything. I should probably go.”

Akaashi seems to have come back to his senses, too, and gives him a polite nod. “That might be a good idea. I’ll leave the refreshments on a tray in the quiet room--”

“The quiet room?”

“It’s down the hall. People sometimes stay there for a few minutes after a massage if they get dizzy or lightheaded during the service.”

“Oh, right. I think I’m just gonna go after this, but thanks!” Bokuto says, flinching again at his too-loud voice.

“It’s up to you, Bokuto-san. Have a good night.” And before Bokuto has a chance to respond, Akaashi bows and exits the room, leaving Bokuto to wonder what the hell just happened.

 

*****

 

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:38] sorry about earlier

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:39] Me, too.

Bokuto stares at his phone, wonders about Akaashi’s response. If he really is sorry. What he’s sorry for. His fingers hover over the keyboard and he sucks in a sharp breath before he starts typing again.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:41] what r u sorry for?  
[2:42] im the one who ruined everything  
[2:42] i didnt mean to fall on u like that

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:43] For assuming things.  
[2:44] For kissing you back even though now it all seems so stupid because of course it was by accident.  
[2:45] You didn’t want to and I didn’t push you away when I should have.

The thing about fingers is that sometimes they have a mind of their own. As much as Bokuto thinks of the right things to say, of the words that could make this whole mess go away, his fingers have other ideas.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[2:46] i didnt say i didnt want to  
[2:47] but hes one of my best friends  
[2:47] my family  
[2:47] as much as i want  
[2:48] nvm it really doesnt matter what i want cause ur  
[2:48] ur

_His_ , he wants to say. But he can’t find it in him to type it out, to make it tangible. True.

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:49] I know.

His phone remains silent for a few minutes and Bokuto thinks maybe the conversation has ended. A hard stop. A period. A forced cut-off to prevent him from doing more of the stupid things he usually has Kuroo talk him out of doing. But not this time. The chime snaps him out of his thoughts and when he reads the message, his heart sinks a little.

**Received From: akaashi**  
[2:58] Maybe if I’d met you first, it would have been different.  
[2:59] I’m terrible, I know. And I’m sorry for even bringing it up, but you’re easy to say things to. Even things I’m not supposed to say.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[3:02] its not terrible and ur not terrible  
[3:03] not any more than i am anyway  
[3:04] but it is what it is yknow? n i cant hurt him like that

**Received From: akaashi**  
[3:05] I know that, too. I wouldn’t want to hurt him either.  
[3:05] We can still be friends... right?  
[3:06] I don’t want to lose that.

**Sent To: akaashi**  
[3:07] yeah  
[3:07] friends

And as Bokuto enters his apartment, his frustration takes over he hurtles his phone at the wall with speed phones are probably not meant to go. He leans back against the door and slides to the floor. Wonders if doing the right thing is supposed to feel as devastating, as gut-wrenching as it does right at that very moment.

 

* * *

 

 

“He asks about you.”

Bokuto is on the couch at Kenma’s a week later, spoonful of cereal suspended an inch from his open mouth. “Wait how do you-- what do you mean he asks about me?!”

“Kuro sometimes has him wait here if he’s running late. I brought you up once and he hasn’t stopped asking questions. It keeps him from talking about him and Kuro, so I answer. He doesn’t seem that bad when we talk like that. It’s almost like we could be friends if--”

The milk dribbles onto Bokuto’s lap, makes him jump in surprise, the spoon landing back into the bowl, cereal forgotten. Kenma sniffs, amused that Bokuto has managed to look considerably more owlish than he usually does already.

“How often?! Why didn’t you tell me before?!”

Kenma shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to make things weird. But you looked so sad when you came over that I thought that might cheer you up.”

“Does it bother you? That he asks about me even though he’s with Tetsu?”

“A small part, yeah. But I know it might be partly my fault, so it’s not really for me to say what they should or shouldn’t do.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows spike before he pats the seat next to him, hastily wiping away the spot of milk on the cushion. “You can’t blame yourself, Pud. How’s anything your fault?”

Reluctantly, Kenma takes the offered seat, his feet pressed together sole to sole and toes wiggling awkwardly. “I think I pushed Kuro toward him more when he came over after that first dinner.”

“Why do you say that?” Bokuto asks with a confused tilt of his head.

“I told him I don’t want to be the reason they break up. That it wouldn’t sit well with me. He hugged me, but it was different this time. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

“If your gut’s telling you something, you should listen to it!”

“Bo.”

“’Cause I’m pretty sure that was a sign.”

“Bo.”

“You need to tell him, Kenma.”

With a sigh, Kenma shakes his head. “No. Not like that, when he’s with someone. Maybe not ever.”

“Why not? Humor me. ‘Cause I dunno why you guys haven’t at least tried.”

“What if it doesn’t work out? Or worse, what if we can’t recover from it? He’s my best friend. I can’t risk that. I won’t.”

“You’re still going to the thing tonight, though? Please say you’re going ‘cause I dunno if I can do this by myself.”

“I never said I’d go.”

“But _Pud_ , c’mon...”

“You don’t have to go either.”

“I already said I would and I don’t wanna make things weirder than they already are.” Bokuto grumbles and sinks further into the couch cushion. “Are ya really not gonna go?”

“I don’t want to see them together more than I have to.” Then he adds, “besides, Kuro’s touchy when he drinks.”

And it’s then that Bokuto seems to understand enough to stop asking because he only nods, expression solemn and mournful and mirroring exactly how Kenma feels.

 

* * *

 

 

The bar is unusually crowded, even for a Friday night. It takes a few quick glances around for Bokuto to spot Kuroo with the rest of his old teammates in one of the booths they’ve commandeered near the kitchen. Bokuto doesn’t see Akaashi at first and he almost wishes maybe something has happened to make him miss the get together, but as he comes closer, he spots the familiar head of dark curls.

He forces a swallow.

Kuroo waves him over, the slight flailing evident of how much Kuroo has had to drink. His smile stretches across his face, comical and completely at ease. It nudges the lump of guilt in Bokuto’s gut, pushes against the knot in his chest. With as much enthusiasm as he can muster, he matches the smile and calls out to greet them.

“HEY HEY HEY! Who’s ready to get the party started now that I’m finally here?!”

“Party’s already bangin’ ‘fore you got here, bro,” Kuroo says, handing Bokuto a shot glass filled with clear liquid that smells like it can incapacitate a horse.

Bokuto takes a sniff, eyes growing wide before he blinks, and downs the entire thing. Then, as subtly as he can, he moves to the other end of the table farthest from Akaashi and holds out the glass for a refill. “Shit, you guys ain’t playin’ around,” he says, laughing as heat stirs in his belly from the alcohol. “Be generous. I need the liquid buffer.”

“Aw, bad day, Kou?” Kuroo asks, slinging an arm around Bokuto’s shoulder and toasting his shot glass against Bokuto’s newly filled one. “I’ve already had four shots, so you’ve got some catchin’ up to do!”

From his peripheral, Bokuto catches Akaashi’s eyes on him. Intensely questioning. Focused. Even with the slight color of his cheeks that Bokuto supposes could be from the multicolored lighting overhead or the bottles of alcohol occupying the table. He forces his attention back to the others lifting another toast, raises his shot glass high, laughter louder and more pronounced than before. Then with another fleeting glance at Akaashi, he throws it back, tries to think of the burn in his throat instead of the burn in his chest from something more lethal than anything the alcohol can do.

Kuroo sidles up next to Akaashi, chuckling as he attempts to lean into Akaashi’s neck. From where Bokuto sits, he sees Akaashi stiffen, polite smile slightly pinched, but in place. 

“You need to slow down, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says as Kuroo’s nose brushes across his cheek. “You’re drinking faster than usual. Do you want me to get you a glass of water?”

“Nahhh,” Kuroo slurs, grin lopsided as he takes a swig of the open beer in front of him. “I feel good. You want me to feel good, right, Akaashi?”

With the accelerated catch-up he’s playing with Kuroo, Bokuto’s shot intake makes witnessing the scene harder than it already is. He doesn’t stay to hear the response, instead gets up and announces, “drank too fast, I think. I’m gonna go get some air. Be right back!”

He shoves through the throng of people to get outside, nearly knocking over a girl with four drinks expertly held between her small hands. The cool air hits him as soon as he opens the door and he takes a deep breath, savors the slight chill that ripples through him as it alleviates the stuffiness he’d felt in the enclosed space.

Kuroo follows behind a few minutes after, stumbling into the door frame with a snort and a drunken chuckle before he leans against the wall behind Bokuto. “Is it just me or is it hotter than Satan’s asscrack in there?”

Bokuto turns with a wide grin, taking in the sight and readying himself just in case Kuroo needed some support. “Good to know you’ve been to Satan’s asscrack,” he says, echoing the snort. “It’s probably ‘cause you’re on your eighth round of shots.”

“Couldn’t let ya... catch up, now could I? Had to look at... manly and... schnit for pretty boy. Yeah.” Kuroo pauses and squints one eye at Bokuto, the scrutiny unmistakable. “Speakin’ of pretty boy... what’s up with you two? Why’re you treatin’ him like the... um, shit, what’s the word, disease, it’s a disease... oh! The plague... yeah, that’s it!”

Air hitches in Bokuto’s lungs, makes it hard to breathe. He stares at Kuroo for a long second and wonders if Akaashi has said anything about what happened at the spa. Kuroo knows something. Or maybe it’s the effects of the alcohol that he’s now fishing for information Bokuto doesn’t want to give. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, bro. Nothing’s up. Just... didn’t have anything to say.”

“I thought, I dunno, maybe you guys had started to get along.” Kuroo drags a hand down his face and juts out his lips. “You’ve been doin’ the avoiding thing since you met him and I gotta say, I thought you could... try harder... or something. I don’t even know what I’m tryin’ to say except that I dunno why you don’t like him. He’s just like Kenma -- well, okay no, not like Kenma ‘cause no one can _ever_ be Kenma, but I want you guys to...shit, I’m... I think I’m gonna puke...”

Bokuto chews on the corner of his bottom lip. The incident at the spa replays in his head, keeps repeating in his head since it happened, and the guilt prickles inside him. Adds to the nausea he’s already starting to feel from the stupid amount of shots he’s managed to inhale in under an hour. “You okay, bro? Maybe you need to go sit down and get some water.”

“What I _need_... is for you to tell him you like him. For me. Just -- I need you to like him, okay? ‘Cause Kenma doesn’t seem to and I dunno why... and you act like you can’t stand bein’ around him and I’m just--” Kuroo looks at Bokuto pleadingly. “-- _please_?”

As ridiculous as Kuroo is acting, something snaps inside of Bokuto and he scoffs. “You need me to tell him I like him? Right, how about I just go in there and tell him that? That I like him. That he’s one of the coolest guys I know--”

“That’d be a start--”

“--that he’s so unbelievably awesome I can’t get him outta my head and every time I look at him, it only makes it suck that much more that the universe decided to fuck me over and you got to meet him first. Is that what you want me say?!”

Kuroo considers this, directs his confusion at Bokuto for a split second before he bursts into inebriated chortles. “Okay, shit. You don’t have to go overboard with it. I just... I want everyone to get along, you know?”

“Trust me, you don’t want that.”

“What the hell do you mean I don’t want th--”

“I like him fine. Don’t mean I gotta hang with him. That’s your job, right?”

“Job? Wh-- I’m askin’ you to chill and maybe put in some extra effort to be nice  and not treat ‘im like some kind of leper ‘cause he’s the closest one I’ve been with that--

“I accidentally kissed him!” Bokuto blurts, the moment instantly suspending. A hard stop. 

He wonders if it’s too late to take it back, too late to ask the universe to swallow him up for being the cause of the betrayal mirrored sharp and clear in Kuroo’s eyes.

Right before a fist drives into his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have been so sweet with all the yelling for this fic so far. Kudos/comments give me life, so thank you! <3 You're all amazing. :D


	5. The One With the Fight(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight between Kuroo and Bokuto makes Kuroo realize some things are worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [**izayas**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/izayas/pseuds/izayas), [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works), and [**aoicanvas**](http://aoicanvas.tumblr.com/) for being my extra pairs of eyes. ♥

Bokuto sees stars.

The impact jars him, leaves him unhinged, and instinctively, he reacts. Knocks out a punch of his own and instantly regrets it when his knuckles slam into the square of Kuroo’s jaw.

Kuroo’s face whips left from the force and Bokuto swears under his breath -- wide-eyed and slack-jawed at his accidental retaliation.

“Shit! Sorry! I wasn't supposed to hit you, but my hand just did the thing by itself and I’m an idiot and I didn’t mean to--” He rambles, the stinging throb on his right cheekbone nothing compared to the one in his chest at having hit Kuroo back despite the provocation.

The first significant thing Kuroo does is squint, his hand gingerly cradled at the point of impact while he resets.

Bokuto’s had enough experience standing between Kuroo and someone else during a fight to know what that squint means. Usually the reason had been Kenma; someone acting out of turn, breaching his space, ignoring his boundaries. Incidents not concerning Kenma were few and far between, but just as bad, just as destructive.

And usually with Bokuto as an ally instead of a target.

It takes Kuroo a few minutes to process this new information as he drops his hand, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. His jaw steels before he pins Bokuto with a glare so incredulous, so fierce it makes Bokuto cower back. “You... kissed him?”

“We didn’t mean to do anything, I swear! We would never hurt you like that!” A few people smoking outside of the bar turn to glance at them, curious and prying, but Bokuto ignores them. Of all the things to drop on Kuroo when his organs are swimming in alcohol, this is definitely not anywhere on Bokuto’s short list.

Kuroo’s snort breaks Bokuto’s temporary distraction. “Oh, so it’s ‘we’ now, is it? That was fast.”

“Tetsu, come _on_ \--”

"So this is why you couldn’t look at him in there?” Kuroo spits out as he advances toward Bokuto. Some of the others nearby take notice, instantly on alert for a potential fight. “I didn’t even know you were into him like that, but I should have realized. The owl thing, the mentions of things you couldn’t have known about him, all the staring. I noticed, but I never thought it’d be-- god damn it, even the birthday present!” Kuroo bites the edge of his lip as everything sinks in, his eyes finding a semblance of clarity when they center on Bokuto again. Bokuto’s reaction time is nonexistent when Kuroo surges and shoves him hard enough to make him lose his footing, his ass hitting the ground before Bokuto awkwardly scrambles back up. “Guess joke’s on me, huh?”

“I’m not! This isn’t a joke! It was an accident and I didn’t-- I just-- can’t we talk about this?!” Hands stinging from when they scraped against the rough pavement, Bokuto hisses through his teeth to stave off the burning sensation, but remains resolute. Determined. Unwilling to leave things as they are -- without resolution and more broken than he’s anticipated. 

Kuroo staggers when his foot catches on a crack in the pavement and he stumbles onto the street, narrowly avoiding the oncoming car that, thankfully, swerves to miss him. He manages to catch himself before he falls face first onto the ground, steps wobbly and unsteady while he shakes out his hand with a strained grunt.

They both stare at each other, breaths harsh and ragged. Bokuto, from shock, his brain still trying to catch up to what just happened. Kuroo, likely from anger, pupils blown and glaring at Bokuto in a way he’s only ever seen directed at other people. Detached, distrusting, and adrenaline-rushed. 

“Don’t _lie_ to me! You broke... the... the, um...” Kuroo snaps his fingers, shaking his head so hard like he’s trying to empty it, to find his bearings. “ _Code_. That’s it. You broke the code, Kou! You’re like family to me. Scratch that, you _are_ family. And you couldn’t have come to me with this before? I had to find out after something happens behind my back?” He exhales, sharp with frustration. Heavy and resigned and disbelieving. “I trusted you! And I thought you trusted me enough to be able to tell me things like this. You wanted him? Great. I would’ve stepped aside. No ifs, ands, or buts. Not if I’d known how much you were into him. There’s only one exception to that rule and I thought you’d know wh-- never mind. Doesn’t matter who it is. What matters is you should’ve known!”

“I fucked up! I know I did and I’m sorry!” Bokuto flinches with the strain of the outburst. A little desperate, pleading, wanting to say all the right things, but not knowing how and afraid he’ll only make it worse. “I tried to stay the hell away from him and it killed me. Havin’ to see it, be around it. Tried like hell to stop thinkin’ about him, too, ‘cause I thought you were finally into someone that could mean something. And I thought, hey, if you find that, good on you. Maybe when I get over whatever this is, I’d find it, too.”

“Looks like you found it, didn’t you, Little Bo Peep?” Kuroo says, his sarcasm peaking. He looks at Bokuto incredulously, takes in the admission with the hint of a sneer. 

Bokuto’s guilt magnifies, threatens to claw out of him if only to take back what he did. So, so guilty, but he sucks in a breath and keeps going. “You were bumming out about the retirement and Kenma was busy with work and I wanted to be a good friend, the one who doesn’t ruin things, even if it meant I had to fuck myself over so I don’t mess things up. I didn’t wanna be _that_ guy.”

Kuroo straightens up as much as the alcohol would allow and waves a hand in Bokuto’s general direction, vague and aimless.

“Look how well that worked out for you.” Kuroo chuckles, dry and humorless. “You know, I think I’ve had enough fun for tonight,” he mutters, swaying when he starts toward the parking lot. “You guys keep goin’, though... drunk-- I mean, drink! I’m gonna head home.”

“Hold on! Just--” Bokuto grabs Kuroo’s arm, grip tight and unwilling to let go, but Kuroo jerks his arm back. Angles it so Bokuto is forced to let go before Kuroo’s elbow can add to his list of injuries. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” he says evenly, keeps walking without a backward glance. “Just fucking don’t, Kou.”

“But what about every--” Bokuto grimaces, pausing to tenderly assess the damage to his face before ending with a helpless, “--one inside?” But Kuroo is already gone, too far away to hear or too drunk and hurt to care what Bokuto has to say. “Shit, shit, _shit_. What the fuck do I do?!”

 

*****

 

**Sent To: pud**  
[12:34] PU D SHIY PUD I NED HELP  
[12:36] TETSUS ON HIS WA Y HOM

**Received From: pud**  
[12:37] what did you do?

**Sent To: pud**  
[12:39] WHY DO YOU ASSUM E I DID SOMETHIGN

**Received From: pud**  
[12:40] because you’re yelling at me about kuro going home  
[12:41] are you drunk?

**Sent To: pud**  
[12:45] N OOO IM NOT DRUNK  
[12:47] K MAYB A LIL  
[12:48] BU T I NEED HEPL  
[12:51] I TOLD HIN ABBOUT KISSIN AKAASHII N HE SORTA PUNCHDD ME

**Received From: pud**  
[12:54] you know it’s almost 1am?  
[12:55] i’m going to bed. put some ice on it when you get home and we can deal with it tomorrow.  
[12:55] can you get home safe?

**Sent To: pud**  
[12:58] thin k so yeahh but can u make sure tetsus ok when he gets there  
[01:00] ur thre only one thhat can i yhink

**Received From: pud**  
[01:03] bo...

**Sent To: pud**  
[01:04] please???

**Received From: pud**  
[01:05] fine but you owe me  
[01:06] i’m sorry you got punched

**Sent To: pud**  
[01:09] its ok i desrrved it  
[01:10] thx pu d

 

*****

 

Voices and music fill the rowdy bar when Bokuto steps back inside, stones in his gut and face throbbing where Kuroo’s fist had made contact. He scans the remainder of the group in the back booth, spots Akaashi instantly, and manages eye contact before making a decision to sit at the bar by himself instead. Penance, maybe, for screwing up in exponential levels and not having enough sober brain cells to explain it all.

His head swims a little, breaths short and spurting as he tries to keep himself level. He doesn’t much care about having to explain Kuroo’s disappearance to the other people, but Akaashi -- he needs Akaashi to know, needs to apologize for putting his big foot in his big mouth, for saying things he shouldn’t have said. For ruining everything.

Now if only his brain would cooperate.

“If your best friend hypothetically made out with someone you were seein’-- but it was by total accident! Not ‘cause they were pining or anything-- what would you do?”

The bartender stops what he’s doing, pauses mid-fill of someone’s beer, and gapes at Bokuto before he continues his task and chuckles. “I’d probably say that my friend’s a dick, but hey, shit happens. Guess it’d depend on the friend and if you were actually pining.”

Bokuto mulls over this new information, worries his bottom lip and furrows his eyebrows like he’s attempting to figure out a quadratic equation, and nearly falls off his bar stool when the bartender sets a glass of water in front of him. 

“I-- thanks, man,” he mumbles, his brain still going over what he could remember from his heated conversation with Kuroo outside. The glass feels cold against his too-warm fingers, its chill knocking some sense back into him instead of the heavy blur muddying everything like some noxious cloud.

“Look, if I were you, I’d say sorry. Scratch that, I’d do sorry.”

“Do... sorry?” Bokuto stares at the glass and then at the man, wondering if it really is just water he’s been given or something else to incapacitate him and make him dumber than he already feels.

“Yeah. Actions speak louder than words, bro. You can say sorry ‘til you’re blue in the face, but if shit is as bad as you say, you gotta grow a pair and man up. Show him you’re not just bullshitting him. If he’s really your best friend, he’d see right through any b.s.”

“But how the hell do I unfuck something up?!” Taking a large gulp of the water, Bokuto nearly chokes on it when he feels a hand rest on his shoulder.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Bokuto turns to find Akaashi next to him. His gray-green eyes show concern, reflect a semblance of what Bokuto’s been feeling since Kuroo had left, and as ironic as it is, the person he’s been so twisted up about is also the person who is now the reason he feels a fraction better. He swallows and shakes his head, figuring he’s probably had too much to drink as it is. “He left, Akaashi,” he mumbles, mournful and a little hopeless, heat prickling behind his eyelids as he blinks some of the haze away. “I said things and everything’s gone to shit and now my best friend is never gonna talk to me again. I’m the worst person ever in the history of worst people.”

“You’re not. Trust me, I’ve known a few contenders for that title.” Akaashi leans against the bar, lips pressed in a tight line. He seems to be contemplating something, his fingers fidgeting together, long and lean and graceful even with the worrisome habit.

“I messed up so bad and I don’t know how to fix it, how to unfuck up and--” Bokuto digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and groans. “--I can’t believe I hit him back! I am officially the worst best friend. I should get a trophy. But not one of those awesome, cool-looking ones -- no, I need one that looks like something I made in shop class a few years back ‘cause I sucked at making stuff and Kuroo used to make fun of all the shit we’d fuck up together. There was even one that looked like a deformed butt at one point.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Akaashi says, gingerly grasping Bokuto’s arm with a sigh. “Let’s get out of here. I think you’ve had enough drinking for the night.” His voice is soft, but clear even with the noise of the bar. There’s a hopefulness to it, and despite the nagging voice in the back of Bokuto’s head that this is probably one of those stupid ideas he needs Kuroo to talk him out of, he mumbles a resigned “yeah” into his hands before he silently and reluctantly follows Akaashi out.

 

*****

 

The diner they end up in is relatively busy; quiet enough to have a conversation in, but not so much that anything they say might be overheard. Akaashi hasn’t said much after they’d left the bar and Bokuto is too afraid of what he would say should he be the first to break the awkward silence. Instead, he sits, quiet and waiting while he presses the makeshift ice pack the hostess had given him when they'd arrived on to his face.

A few minutes after the waitress brings their orders out, Akaashi finally broaches the subject, addresses the elephant in the room and Bokuto is relieved that he’s saved from making the first move.

“I suppose I don’t have to ask what you two talked about outside the bar?” The tight line of Akaashi’s mouth and rueful expression as he surveys Bokuto’s face, doubtless assessing the damage of the confrontation, tells Bokuto that he may not have much to tell after all. It’s then Akaashi holds up his phone to the last text messages sent:

**Received From: Kuroo Tetsurou**  
[12:42] i don’t think this is workin out

**Sent To: Kuroo Tetsurou**  
[12:44] Understood, Kuroo-san.  
[12:45] I’ve been feeling the same way.

**Received From: Kuroo Tetsurou**  
[12:46] you should’ve said something

**Sent To: Kuroo Tetsurou**  
[12:47] Would you like to be the pot or the kettle?  
[12:48] Give Kozume-kun my regards.

“Oh crap,” Bokuto’s eyes remain wide and rounded as he rereads the texts again. Then his fingers card through his hair, clench as tightly as the growing knot in his chest. “This is all my fault. I’m such an idiot and I didn’t even mean to tell; it just slipped out! I’ll help you fix it. I swear I’ll fix it, Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-san...”

“No! I did this. I need to-- I’m sorry, if I hadn’t opened my big, fat mouth--”

“Bokuto-san...”

“--none of this would’ve happened and everything would be fine and no one would be hurt and pissed and _oh!_ Maybe if I promise to do all the housework for a month. A year! No, wait, I do the housework anyway ‘cause he can’t clean for shit. What if I do his laundry for a month or I don’t know, cook up a plan to get you guys back together with a secret dinner, _something_ \--”

“Koutarou. _Stop_.”

Bokuto snaps up, incoherent rambling cut short. “Huh?”

Some people from a few booths nearby direct annoyed glances their way and Bokuto shrinks back in his seat, dejected at having been cut off from his plan-making babbles and feeling like his loudness only adds to how annoying he’s being.

“There’s nothing to fix. I was going to tell him anyway. Tonight, as a matter of fact. But he drank a little too much and I thought telling him sober might be a better idea so he’ll remember the conversation.”

Bokuto blinks, a little too quickly that Akaashi softly chuckles. “Tell him what?”

“That it wasn’t working out. That he needs to tell Kozume-kun how he feels because I’m fairly sure the feeling is mutual.” Akaashi shrugs, fiddles with his hands, and Bokuto has to stop himself from reaching across the table to ease the worry from them. “I didn’t plan on telling him I liked you until I was sure it wouldn’t effectively ruin your friendship. Maybe once he realized I was right about Kozume-kun.”

“And now I’ve fucked it up. You had a plan and I fucked it up. Oh god, I always fuck everything up and say shit without thinking and--” With a groan, Bokuto vigorously rubs a hand up and down his face, the action slowing when he registers what Akaashi has said. “Wait, you like me?”

The small grin Akaashi offers makes Bokuto’s stomach flip. “I thought it was obvious. But I guess discretion’s out of the question now.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but he kept goin’ on and on about how I was avoidin’ you, how I acted like I didn’t like you at all when that was pretty far from the truth. I was trying to be the good friend, really I was, but he kept pushing ‘cause he wanted us to get along and then--”

“I get the picture. I haven’t been as affectionate with him since you came to see me last week and I think maybe he got the wrong idea about why.”

“I didn’t know,” Bokuto says, adjusting the cold-pack against his face with a muted whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t let it end like this. He and I go way back and he’s always been there for me. Like family, ya know? Tutored me when I was too dumb to understand stuff on my own. Stuck up for me when people gave me shit or thought I was being annoying. Every time I was in trouble, it’s always been Tetsu to bail me out. Or join me, depending on what it was. But he was always there. No ifs, ands, or buts. Never questioned it and never thought I’d ever have to.”

“You’re lucky. Some people go their whole lives without finding someone like that.” Akaashi’s fingers twist and wring as he says, “You should go and make sure he’s okay.”

“What about you?”

Again, a small grin tugs Akaashi’s mouth, but different this time. Dimmed. “I’ll be fine.”

Bokuto is unconvinced. Before he can stop himself, he reaches across and takes Akaashi’s hands, thumbs rubbing across his knuckles. Hesitant. Uncertain about how the impulsive action might be taken. But after a minute, Bokuto feels Akaashi relax, his fingers less rigid, less tense than before.

“You’re not fine.”

“I will be,” Akaashi says, his gaze flickering to the side, “but he isn’t and you’ve been friends much too long to let me get in the way of that. Give him the night to cool off and then try talking to him again.”

With a shake of his head, Bokuto’s grip lessens, but Akaashi is the one who completely pulls away. Though the fleeting assurance had been nice, the gnawing in Bokuto’s gut takes precedence and the drive to fix what he’s done redirects his focus. “This is my fault,” he says, jaw steeling. Purposeful. Resolute. “You were never in the way of anything. I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll make everything okay.”

Akaashi purses his lips, eyebrows bridging together. A hint of skepticism. “What if you can’t?”

“That’s not an option for me.”

 

*****

 

The coffee finishes brewing just as Kenma’s door opens and Kuroo stumbles in. When the smell hits him, he gives Kenma a grateful smile, plops down on the couch and bows forward, face in his hands.

Kenma doesn’t push, doesn’t ask. He knows better when Kuroo is like this. Knows better than to interrupt the innumerable thoughts in his head while he takes the time to sort them out. Instead, he sets the extra mug on the coffee table and waits, hands wrapped around his own cup while he eyes the purple-red tint along Kuroo’s jaw.

After a brief, somewhat awkward silence, Kuroo takes the mug in front of him and sips the steaming liquid. His Adam’s apple noticeably bobs, lips pursed against the edge of the cup with a grimace.

“I’m guessing Kou’s already texted you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“Some, but--”

“Did he tell you what he did?”

“Kuro.”

Kuroo takes another sip, too quickly this time and he hisses through his teeth as the coffee scalds his tongue. “You know what the stupid thing is? I didn’t care about the kiss--”

“Bo said it was an accident.”

“And that makes it okay?” There’s an exasperation in his tone, helped little by the slur still slightly audible in his explanation. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not even pissed off about that. Not really. What gets to me is how he couldn’t tell me. How he just kept it to himself and didn’t bother saying anything. He’s supposed to be my best friend. How could he have kept something like that from me?”

“Maybe it’s because he’s your best friend that he did.”

“But that’s stupid. If he was really that into Akaashi, I would have stepped aside.”

“Because it would have made Akaashi happy?” Kenma asks, bracing himself for the answer.

“No?" Kuroo says, slightly confused. "I mean, I like Akaashi and all, but if he could’ve made Kou happy, then I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I’d do the same for you.”

Kenma sighs and tries not to drown himself inside his cup. “What are you going to do about Akaashi now?”

“Nothing? I ended it,” Kuroo says absently before he continues with his previous tirade, “I just wish he would’ve told me so I’m not left feeling like someone sucker-punched me.”

“From what I heard, you were the one doing the sucker-punching.”

“The bastard hit me back. Pretty sure he hadn't meant to, but he got me pretty good. And anyway, he deserved it,” Kuroo mutters as he finishes off what remains of his coffee. Then he glances at Kenma, his expression crumpling. “Sorry to dump all of this on you, kitten. You probably think I’m dumb for, I don’t know, maybe having feelings for someone who has feelings for someone else. That’s stupid, right? Especially since the reason I started seeing him to begin with was ‘cause he reminded me of-- never mind. That’s another stupid thing altogether. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t understand. It’s not like I’d know how that feels.” Kenma bristles and shifts a fraction away from Kuroo, mug held so tightly between his hands that his knuckles whiten. The insinuation stings, makes it difficult to keep his expression neutral. “Is it really so bad that he didn’t tell you because he thought he was doing the right thing? He thought you were happy with Akaashi. I would have done the same.”

“You wouldn’t have kept something important from me. Something big enough to change our friendship. I know you and you usually say what’s on your mind.”

Kenma sniffs and glares at the coffee table, eyebrows furrowing. He has half a mind to tell Kuroo everything he’s kept pent up, but finds his restraint just in time. “You don’t know everything, Kuro.”

“I wasn’t sayin’ that I did--”

“You can sleep on the couch tonight if you don’t want to go back to your place, but I have to go to bed. Early deadline tomorrow.”

He stands, but Kuroo reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can excuse himself. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Kenma lies, his eyes prickling and chest clenching as he attempts to ease out of Kuroo’s grip to no avail. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’ve stayed with me for less, deadline or not. Something’s up. Kou and I aren’t talking and now you’re acting weird. I can’t -- if you stop talking to me too, I don’t know if I can take that.”

“Kuro, I’m tired...”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Kenma directs a steady gaze at Kuroo, takes in the confusion in his eyes, the worried press of his lips. “If you don’t know by now, it really doesn’t matter.”

“Kitten--”

“Lock up behind you if you leave,” Kenma says as he manages to get out of Kuroo’s grasp.

Then he walks into his bedroom, shuts the door, listens for anything to indicate Kuroo has left the apartment. When he hears the front door shut, he leans against the wall and slides to the floor with a sigh. “I’m an idiot.”

* * *

  

The apartment is dark when Bokuto finally makes it home. Kuroo’s door is closed; he pauses outside of it, hand poised to knock, but thinks better of it and shuffles off into his own bedroom instead.

Better to let him sleep it off. To let him cool down.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. We’ll clear all this up. It’ll be okay,” he mumbles before he falls into bed with a loud sigh, clothes and all, so exhausted that he’s sure he’s passed out before his head ever touched the pillow.

Kuroo is gone the next morning. Bokuto waits just in case he comes back from one of his early morning runs, but he’s late enough as it is and the client he has that morning is one of his more difficult to handle. When he gets home later that night, the apartment is quiet. Kuroo’s door remains shut, an obvious barrier that hasn’t existed before now, and Bokuto can’t shake off the feeling that maybe this time, despite the hope he holds out, there’s a very real chance this isn’t something he can fix. 

* * *

   

A few days pass and the not talking continues, no matter his attempts at catching Kuroo so they can get things out, clear the air. Somehow Kuroo manages to avoid him completely, much to Bokuto’s frustration. The prolonged silence takes on new meaning, makes him regret not trying harder than he has been to get Kuroo to talk. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of large, half-filled duffel bags visible from the crack of Kuroo’s bedroom.

The knot in his chest grows, makes it hard to breathe, to process. He fumbles with his phone and texts the only person who would understand.

 

*****

 

**Received From: bo**  
[12:03] have u heard from tetsu???  
[12:04] he hasnt answered any of my texts n I think somethins goin on  
[12:05] bags r packed

**Sent To: bo**  
[12:07] no but i’m really not in the mood to talk to him

**Received From: bo**  
[12:08] WHAT?? WHY?? WHAT HAPPENED??  
[12:09] i thought everything was ok???

**Sent To: bo**  
[12:14] he came over that night you were drunk but i haven’t talked to him much since then  
[12:15] i told him i had deadlines

**Received From: bo**  
[12:17] what did he do?? do u need me to do something???  
[12:18] i got a few more hours at the gym cause a couple of my regulars came in today but i can come play video games after n we dont even have to talk or anything

**Sent To: bo**  
[12:22] thanks but i just want to be alone

**Received From: bo**  
[12:24] ok but let me know if u need anything

When Bokuto comes back to the apartment a few hours later, the bags he’d seen earlier that morning have now migrated into the living room. A loud crash comes from Kuroo’s bedroom, then silence before Kuroo emerges, his National team uniform folded in his hands.

Bokuto fidgets. “Where are ya goin’?”

“Sawamura’s place. He and Suga said I can crash on their couch while I try to work some shit out.”

“You’re movin’ out?”

“I don’t know yet,” Kuroo says, catching Bokuto’s eye for a split second before he rushes past him to put the uniform into the bag now threatening to rip at the seams. “But I need to clear my head, figure out what I'm gonna do, and I can't do that if I stay here.”

“Why?!” Bokuto takes a step forward. When Kuroo slings both bags on his shoulders, he grabs a hold of a strap, his voice cracking. “Wait, I thought we were gonna talk! I didn’t mean to-- come on, you know I would never purposely-- bro, it’s _me_. I wouldn’t--”

“That’s exactly it,” Kuroo says, quiet. He shakes his head before finally looking at Bokuto. “Why couldn’t you have told me from the start? I couldn’t remember much from that night other than you decking me after you told me what you did. But the more I thought about it after, the more I couldn’t understand why.”

It’s then Bokuto sees the hurt there, the effects of the betrayal. The guilt he feels magnifies, makes him grip the strap harder, a little more desperately than before.

“I didn’t know, okay?! I thought you were really into him and I didn’t want to be that friend. You were finally normal, happy even, after the retirement and I wanted that for you. I really did! He lasted longer than any of the others and I thought if I could stay away from him for a little while, I’d be able to get over it. I didn’t want to be into him if I thought it was gonna fuck up our friendship. I’d never want that! I just -- I need for us to be okay. What can I do to make us okay?”

Kuroo’s dry chuckle surprises him. “You know, I was tellin’ Kenma that you being into Akaashi wasn’t even what I was pissed off about.”

“I-It wasn’t?”

“No,” Kuroo says with a sigh, the bags dropping to the floor again. “I told you at the bar -- I would’ve stepped aside if I had known you were really that into him. Did I like him? Sure, ‘cause he’s easy to be with and he reminds me of-- well, I might as well have everything out in the open while I’m at it--” He takes a deep breath. “He reminds me of Kenma in a way and I thought it’d be easier to try and see if it would go anywhere with him than to fuck up my friendship with someone I couldn’t lose.”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.” When Kuroo tilts his head in confusion, Bokuto rolls his eyes, hands making random, vague gestures to emphasize his point. “No, really. I thought I was dumb, but you’re definitely dumber.”

“You’re not really helpin’ your fix-it case here, bro.” Kuroo rolls his eyes and hefts the bags onto his shoulders with a huff. “I’m outta here.”

“Wait!” And before Bokuto can stop himself, he launches his full weight at Kuroo and knocks him to the ground. 

Kuroo grunts as he hits the hardwood, tries to gain leverage by rolling on top of Bokuto to no avail. He uses his elbow to gain as much of an upper hand as he can with Bokuto putting in as much effort to keep him contained as Kuroo exerts to free himself. By the time the spontaneous scuffle loses steam, they’re both breathing hard, Kuroo’s palm digging underneath Bokuto’s chin and Bokuto’s hand planted awkwardly on Kuroo’s face.

“Just... hear me... out,” Bokuto wheezes while he tries to maneuver in a way that would lessen the strain on his airway. “Kenma’s... into you. Like...  _really_ into you.”

Kuroo shakes his head and blinks, his position unchanging. “You... don’t know... what you’re talking about,” he grunts, squirming when Bokuto shifts his hand without much luck at getting Kuroo to budge. “I’ve tried... there’s just no way--”

“Way... Totally... way, bro-- ow, my fucking neck!”

"You deserve that!” Kuroo’s hand remains where it is, his curiosity unmistakable. “In... what way?”

“First,” Bokuto says, arms shaky as he strains to stay in the same position. “Truce.”

Kuroo seems to be considering the offer and eventually yields when Bokuto increases the pressure and cuts off his ventilation altogether. “Fine! _Fine_ , truce, you asshole!”

Relieved, Bokuto releases Kuroo’s face and collapses to the side, just as Kuroo sucks in a few loud, exaggerated breaths. They lay there for a few minutes, too tired from whatever the hell just happened to do anything else. It’s Bokuto who breaks the silence, his determination to fix what’s been broken renewing his resolve to keep Kuroo from leaving.

“As in the he’s-probably-been-in-love-with-you-since-before-you-made-puberty-your-bitch kinda way. Said he wants you happy, even if he knows he couldn’t make it happen. I dunno why. I think he’s pretty awesome and you’re obviously into him. Wish I’d known that before, though. I would’ve tried to help.”

Kuroo blinks, slow and bewildered. “You guys... talk about it?”

“Yeah? Don’t look so surprised. What do you think happens when we hang out?”

“I don’t know, play video games? Watch movies? I didn’t even know Kenma opened up to anyone besides me like that.”

Bokuto shrugs. “You haven’t exactly been around. Not sayin’ that’s your fault or anything, but I guess it made us closer. More family-like than him tolerating me just ‘cause I’m your friend.”

“Kenma never thought of you that way.”

“It felt that way sometimes. But after gettin’ to know him better, I realized that’s just ‘cause of how he is and not ‘cause I’m how I am. He deserves to be happy, too, which is why I’m tellin’ you that you’re an idiot. Instead of tryin’ to settle for someone who reminds you of him, why don’t you go for the real thing?”

Kuroo drapes his arm over his face. “I tried that and I almost ruined our friendship.”

“I know, I know, by confessing, right?” Bokuto spares Kuroo a sympathetic glance when he sees the surprised reaction. “He told me about that. Told me why, too. I’m not gonna get into it ‘cause that’s not for me to say, but what I am gonna tell ya is that he’s into you probably as much as you’re into him. And you should maybe do something about it before it’s too late.”

“Oh.” It takes Kuroo a few minutes to process, to let it sink in. Then his eyes widen, his palm smacking his face and dragging all the way down. “What the hell, I _am_ dumber than you.”

Bokuto has the sudden urge to pat Kuroo’s ridiculous bedhead, not unlike how he usually does when Kuroo does something stupid. But instead of the continued sympathy, he flicks the side of Kuroo’s head as encouragement, excitement making him a little giddy that some of the pieces are finally starting to fit together. “Now that you’ve had your ‘come to Jesus’ moment, what’re you gonna do about it?”

Kuroo groans in response and digs the heels of his palms against his forehead. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbles, “I told him he wouldn’t know what it feels like to have feelings for someone who has feelings for someone else. I _knew_ there was a reason he got weird on me that night and why he's been pretty much M.I.A. since.”

“Why don’t you just go over there?”

“He changed the locks.”

“I-- Shit, that’s... never happened before.”

“I can’t lose him, Kou.” Kuroo glances at Bokuto before he stares at the stark white of the ceiling. “I can’t lose either of you, but I don’t know how I’m gonna trust you to be honest with me if you’re trying to be a hero to spare my feelings.”

Bokuto grunts and pulls himself up to sitting position. “I can be honest! I didn’t know not messing up your relationship would fuck up our friendship, I swear! Generally, it’s a dick move if you tell your friend you’re into whoever he’s seeing and not the other way around! I didn’t know I was supposed to be a dick!”

“I know, but I thought. I don’t know, I guess I thought we were on our own wavelength. We don’t function the way most friendships do anyway, so why would this have been any different?” Pausing to blow his fringe out of his eye, Kuroo suddenly chuckles; pensive and a little nostalgic. “Do you remember college graduation? When I got stuck in the supply closet ‘cause I didn’t realize it was gonna lock behind me when I was makin’ out with that one girl? I don’t even remember her name.”

“I don’t either, but I remember the closet.” Bokuto laughs, glad that some of the tension has started to dissipate, even if it’s only by a small amount. “I thought you abandoned me and I was mad, but I think I was more hurt ‘cause it was graduation and super important and I wanted my best friend there.”

“I still feel like a dick and a half about that. But the point is, the whole time I was stuck inside that closet, I wasn’t thinking about missing my own graduation or the speech I had to give. Let’s be real, people probably get enough of ‘em during those snoozefests.”

“Your speech would’ve rocked, though! It’s not every day you make second in your entire graduating class.”

“I guess so, but instead of thinking of that, I was worrying about how you were gonna take it. If you’d be disappointed in me. If you’d be pissed that I missed it even when I was up half the night with you going over what you should do so you don’t trip on stage when they call your name. But mostly that I sucked at being your friend ‘cause you worked really hard to get there and I couldn’t be there for you.”

“You really should’ve been thinkin’ about how to get out of that fucking closet.”

Kuroo laughs again, tired and drained. “I probably should’ve been, yeah.”

“Why’d you bring that up?”

“I don’t know. I guess I remembered being stuck there and how shitty of a friend you probably thought I was--”

“I’d lock myself in the closet if that would fix everything!”

Lifting a wary eyebrow, Kuroo looks taken aback. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! I’d do the same thing you did and think about how much I’ve hurt you and what a shitball friend I’ve been. How I’d never do it again.”

“Well, none of our closets lock, so you’re kinda assed out. Besides, it’s stupid and I already know you’re sorry--”

“How about a box?” Bokuto turns toward him, relieved when he sees the gears in Kuroo’s head start to turn. The idea is off the wall, out of the ordinary, and probably one of the stupidest he’s come up with to date. But for all their childhood shenanigans, Bokuto knows best what would hook Kuroo’s curiosity and wondering if Bokuto would actually sit in there to put his words into action is an opportunity he knows Kuroo can’t pass up on. “Kenma usually has those boxes. Huge ones! The ones his reference stuff for the storyboard projects come in. I’m pretty sure he still has a crate one of them was shipped in.”

“You’d sit in a box for me?”

“’Course I would! If it means you’d trust me again and we’d be okay. I figured, a box is just as good as closet. Maybe worse. And this is worse than missing graduation.”

“How long would you stay in there?”

“As long as it takes for you to see that I wouldn’t fuck up on purpose. But... there’s a catch,” Bokuto says, giving Kuroo a pointed look. “You gotta talk to Kenma.”

“Why?”

“’Cause the box is in his apartment and we can’t do it if you guys aren’t talking. Besides, you know you wanna. You have to at least try. He’s worth that, isn’t he?”

Pushing up and off the floor, Kuroo brushes himself off and stares at the front door, expression resigned. “He is, but I don’t know that I deserve him.”

Bokuto snorts. “Damn, I hate when I’m right. Okay, no, that’s a lie. I actually really like bein’ right, but that’s sorta besides the point ‘cause who doesn’t like bein’ right, right? And anyway--”

“Kou, focus.”

“Oh, yeah, shit. Okay. Sorry!” Bokuto says, scratching his cheek with a sheepish laugh.

Then Kuroo prompts, “right about what?”

Bokuto tilts his head toward Kuroo, his grin wide and smug and brimming with affection.

_“You’re his lobster.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow with the amazing comments/kudos/(likes/reblogs for those on tumblr) - holy shit, you all are wayyyy awesome! :D
> 
> They feed my soul and literally, nothing gets me updating faster than appreciation for my blood, sweat, and tears. ;A; I'm weak, so thank you for rockin' and for the unexpected continued support for this ongoing angst fest!! haha
> 
> -atsu


	6. The One With the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Kenma confront the elephant in the room, Bokuto spends some quality time with a box, and Akaashi makes a decision that changes Bokuto's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean to let this stew for as long as it did, but life got away from me. haha 
> 
> Scene song inspirations:  
> KuroKen - [**I Don't Wanna**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7xyYoX5hIY) by Secondhand Serenade  
> [ **Someone Else's Heart**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cFPJbZjaIM) by Kina Grannis  
>  BokuAka - [**Good To You**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3y_tjLBqTY) by Marianas Trench
> 
> Thanks to [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for being my extra pairs of eyes. ♥

Despite the handful of text messages from Bokuto that afternoon and the barrage of messages from Kuroo in the morning, Kenma’s day has been relatively quiet. Undisturbed. Lacking of anything to stress himself out about save for the looming deadline of his current video game project.

Until he hears it.

Soft, barely audible. But definitely a thud coming from the other side of his front door. At first, he wonders if it’s another delivery from work; he’d ordered more reference materials for a new game concept he’s been stuck with, but then remembers that it’s too late on a Saturday night for any last minute deliveries.

He inches closer and it’s then he hears another sound, quieter than the last, but unmistakable. When he quickly unlocks the door and swings it open, Kuroo topples inside and stares at him upside down from his position on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I, um, didn’t want to bother you when you were having ‘alone time’.”

Kenma sniffs. “So you thought you’d stake out my apartment instead?”

With a guilty smile, Kuroo’s shoulders shift in a noticeable shrug. “Until it was over, yeah.”

Had it been any other time, Kenma would have been amused with the way Kuroo is sprawled out on the floor, ridiculous bedhead mussed and sticking out every which way. Would have found the need to respect his personal space endearing, no matter how comical the result. But in that moment, the distance between them takes precedent, stretches the rift in their friendship, and even the absurdity of the situation isn’t enough to lessen the weight.

“Idiot,” Kenma mumbles before walking back into his kitchen, the door left ajar. An open invitation.

Kuroo takes the hint, scrambles off the floor, and follows him inside. Silence hangs between them, unbearably awkward and making it hard to breathe. Kenma remains facing the kitchen sink, his hands braced against the counter’s edges and fingers finding comfort in tracing the grooves between the tiles. He pays close attention to the droplets that form around the faucet spout, watches them bead until they splatter into the metal basin, free to fall, to let go.

It makes him a little envious.

His chest tightens with it, throat seizing with the lump that settles there, makes him ache with the resolve of the decision he’s reached in the time he’s had to himself.

“Kitten...”

“Can you--” Kenma takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat, exhales slowly. Reaches deep to find the strength to say what he needs to without his voice betraying him. “Can you not call me that anymore?”

Hearing himself say it sounds more painful out loud than in his head, but he’s had a few good days to think. To balance what he has and what he wants, to find a middle ground in between. If there’s a chance for them to get over this, to be what they were without the baggage of what Kenma imagines they could be, he has to learn to let go. Losing the pet name is only the first step. A necessary evil. Ripped off like a band aid so he can nurse the sting now and avoid the fallout later when distancing himself would be too hard, too impossible to give up what he’s held on to for the majority of their friendship.

“W-Why?” Kuroo doesn’t bother to hide the splinter in his voice, the confusion, the hurt. It almost makes Kenma reconsider.

Almost.

“Because it makes it easier.”

“Makes what easier?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Kenma shuts his eyes, grips the counter harder when he feels Kuroo come up behind him, his fingertips pressed underneath into the rough, unfinished wood. Then Kuroo’s hand is on his shoulder and he trembles under the weight of it, hates himself for not being able to control his reactions. Not when it comes to Kuroo. Never when it comes to Kuroo.

He cringes at his own weakness.

“Tell me?”

“I can’t,” Kenma mumbles, eyes opening to stare at the tiny cracks on the porcelain tiles. Afraid he’ll say something he can’t take back, he changes the subject instead. “Have you talked to Bo?”

“Yeah, we’re good. It was just a misunderstanding, but we found a solution for it.”

“And Akaashi?” he asks, tightening his hold enough that his fingers ache from the strain. Braces himself for the answer. “Are you getting back together?”

The hand at Kenma’s shoulder squeezes. Gentle, reassuring.

“No? Why would you think we were?”

“He makes you happy,” Kenma mumbles, eyes stinging at the affirmation. Somehow, saying the words to Kuroo carries a heavier impact, more painful than when he’d admitted it to Bokuto during their sporadic balcony conversations. “And you cleared things up with Bo, so I thought--”

“I never said I was happy. I said I wasn’t unhappy. There’s a difference.”

“But you liked him. Enough to hit one of your best friends.”

“I did, yeah. But,” Kuroo says, the pause making Kenma flinch. Afraid of what might come next. Of his inability to handle whatever it is Kuroo has to take a second to get out. “I figured if you were upset with me enough to change your locks, there’s a chance things with us are gonna shift anyway. That everything’s gonna change. So why not just lay out all my cards.”

“What are you saying, Kuro?”

“I’m in love with you,” Kuroo says, quieter than Kenma’s ever heard him, but firm. Strong. Resolute despite the cracks in his voice betraying the iron confidence and sounding just as vulnerable as Kenma feels.

Kenma’s eyes widen a fraction as he shakes his head, pleading. “Don’t do this. I’ve picked you back up after all your relationships end and they always end the same way. You never talk to them again. It’s like they stop existing after that part fades away.” He pauses to swallow, feels the fire in his lungs as he struggles to breathe.

“What are you talking ab--”

“It _will_ fade, especially with me. I don’t want to be another notch who can’t hack it, another person you leave behind because you can’t find what you're looking for. I’m not good for you. Not that way. I told you that when you confessed then and I’m telling you the same thing now. It hasn’t changed.”

“That’s the thing, though. It _hasn’t_ changed. It’s been ten years and it’s still exactly the same. I still feel exactly the same. Even when I thought I didn’t have a shot. Even when all I was was your friend.” Kuroo’s hand retracts, but he remains where he is. Leaving enough space so that Kenma can think, can take it all in. Can run if he wants to. “Haven’t you ever wondered why they all ended? Why I never thought twice about them after they did?”

Kenma shakes his head again. “I tried not to think about them at all.”

“It’s because they weren’t _you_.” Kuroo’s voice breaks, leaves him wide open. “Then I met Akaashi and there were so many things about him that reminded me of you that I thought, maybe this one might work--” He scoffs, defeated. “But it wasn’t the same. None of them will ever feel the same. I love you, Kenma. It’s always ever just been you. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because you don’t want to lose me. Because you’re dependent on me. Or maybe because I’m dependent on you and you need someone to take care of. I don’t know.” Sucking in a sharp breath, Kenma steels himself and continues. “It’s not the same and this is stupid. You should leave.”

“Tell me you don’t love me.”

Slowly, Kenma pries his hands from their involuntary death grip and turns to face Kuroo. Lifts his eyes to see the marked determination there, the challenge in the words matching the intensity in Kuroo’s questioning gaze.

“...what?”

“Tell me you don’t love me,” Kuroo repeats, holding Kenma’s attention, studying him, “and I’ll stop. I won’t mention it again and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Even if I tell you to go?”

Kuroo seems to debate the question, then steels his expression and nods. “If that would make you happy, even then.”

Kenma considers this, considers lying to Kuroo to get him to back off among other things. To hold out so that maybe if he keeps his resolve, Kuroo will eventually see Kenma had been right all along.

But just as he opens his mouth to refute the claim, something else speaks for him. Something that’s been silent for much too long and refuses to back down. To remain hidden.

“I--” The words form on Kenma’s lips, his throat working through a swallow while he tries to get them out. But realizes, much to his chagrin, that he can’t. That though lying to himself has worked for years, lying to Kuroo outright is something he can’t ever bring himself to do. Clenching his fists, Kenma looks to the side, shakes his head and whispers, “I can’t...”

It’s then Kuroo takes a step toward him, breaches the space. But not entirely, not until Kenma meets the question in his eyes and nods his consent that Kuroo eliminates any distance remaining. His arms wrap around Kenma, hold him close, tight enough that Kenma's lids prickle with relief, his heartbeat quickening to match the pace pulsing against his fingertips when he presses a hand to Kuroo’s chest.

They stand there for a while, Kenma reluctant to move away, afraid it isn’t real. That if he says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing, Kuroo will realize his mistake and he’ll be left alone. The one thing he never wanted, no matter how much everything else took him apart.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” he mumbles into Kuroo’s shirt.

Kuroo’s laughter rumbles in his chest, thrums and vibrates against the pads of Kenma’s fingertips, against his palm. He closes his fist, hoping to capture it, to hold it like something tangible, something real.

“Why? Are you planning on going anywhere?”

“No.”

“Good. Neither am I.” Kuroo’s breath is warm against him, lips pressed to the crown of Kenma’s head.

“But what if--”

Stroking Kenma’s hair, Kuroo tightens his hold a fraction. A reassurance. “I know you, kitten. Better than anyone. I’ve seen you at your worst and I’m still here.”

“If I lost you--”

“You won’t,” Kuroo says, hoarse and filled with a confidence that makes Kenma want to believe. A confidence he’s always had in everything he’s ever done. And now it’s directed at the most important step they’ve ever taken. “It’s you and me, okay?”

Kenma deliberates, takes in what this will mean, the risks and rewards. And finally, with a quiet sigh, he concedes. “Okay.”

Kuroo’s nose burrows in his hair, breathing him in and murmuring an amused, “took you long enough.”

Kenma scoffs, but doesn’t pull away. “I change my mind. Idiot.”

Releasing Kenma enough to cup his chin and tilt his face up toward him, Kuroo kisses the tip of Kenma’s nose before nudging it with his own and pressing their lips together. Lingering, sweet, a little cautious. But enough to cause a flutter in Kenma’s stomach, to make his heartbeat quicken. “I’m your idiot, so that’s gotta count for something, right?”

“Hardly,” Kenma says, trying to stifle a laugh and ends up snorting instead.

Kuroo’s eyes soften when he looks at him. Curious and focused, gentle, reserved. A thousand stars in one glance. It’s a look Kenma knows well. One he’s seen directed at him countless times before, but has never allowed himself to entertain until now. Then Kuroo breaks into a cheeky grin. “According to Kou, you know what this makes me now, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“Your lobster.”

“Out of all the soulmate references, that’s the one he goes with? Typical,” Kenma replies with a halfhearted sniff. Then he fixes Kuroo with a curious stare. “You were pretty upset last night. How did you and Bo work things out?”

Kuroo’s gaze drifts to the side, eyebrows rising and piquing Kenma’s interest even more. “Well, you see... about that...”

 

*****

 

When Kuroo returns, moony-eyed and practically glowing as he rehashes his conversation with Kenma, Bokuto has never been more relieved that something good had come from everything that’s happened.

With Kuroo’s issues resolved, it gives him hope that maybe karma isn’t out for retribution after all. That maybe there’s a fix in store for the only other thing still hanging over his head. He thinks of Akaashi’s blunt confession, of Akaashi’s fingers twisting and wringing with worry, and as soon as he gets a minute, he takes his own plunge.  

**Sent To: akaashi  
** [9:12] u off work yet?  
[9:14] got somethin to tell u but i dont wanna do it over text

There’s no response. Odd, considering Akaashi is usually quick to answer and his shift has already ended. Bokuto tries not to think about it, tries to find other things to occupy his mind so he’s not checking his phone every five minutes in anticipation of a reply. A few hours later, his chat window remains unchanged, and he decides to take one last shot before bed.

**Sent To: akaashi  
** [1:24] guess u didnt get the msgs  
[1:24] or ur prob sleepin  
[1:25] let me kno when u can talk  
[1:26] night akaashi

* * *

  

The next day, he tries again, fingers twitchy and anxious at the lack of response. He has a sudden bout of insecurity, a newly formed bubble of doubt, and the longer he sits on it, the more it festers. Eats him up from the inside.

**Sent To: akaashi  
** [10:33] passed by ur work today omw home from the gym but didnt wanna go inside in case u were busy  
[10:34] n u havent texted so i thought u might be  
[10:34] busy i mean  
[10:35] but if ur not busy maybe we can grab lunch today? :D  
[10:36] found a bbq place that has awesome yakiniku  
[10:36] totally nonrubber  
[10:38] so yeah uh call or text if u want

* * *

  

**Sent To: akaashi  
** [12:44] havent heard from u in a few days  
[12:45] wanted to make sure u were ok  
[12:46] kinda worried so let me kno yeah?

 

*****

 

**Sent To: akaashi  
** [2:34] cant sleep so i thought id see if u were up  
[2:36] kinda gettin the feelin ur avoidin me  
[2:40] ok well  
[2:41] gnite i guess

* * *

  

Days later and with Akaashi still radio-silent, Bokuto is glad for the distraction when one of Kenma’s reference materials arrives, large crate included. He eyes the box when he arrives, rolling his eyes at Kuroo’s shit-eating grin, before concluding that the box definitely looks like it could fit a grown man easily enough.

An hour later, as he’s sitting inside, he begins to doubt the genius of his plan altogether, the heat from the enclosed container beginning to make his bright idea suddenly seem not so bright. Especially since Kuroo and Kenma have both decided to keep him company for the entirety of the stunt.

“I’m really glad you guys finally stopped being dumb! At least someone’s getting a happy ending out of this, right?!”

“Kenma, does that sound like ‘silent thinking’ time to you?”

“No. It sounds like ‘Bo talking in a box’ time.”

Bokuto shifts uncomfortably, stretches his legs as far as they would go; which isn’t much, considering how cramped the small space is. “You know, the box looked a lot bigger from the outside.”

“I don’t think Bo understands the meaning of ‘silent thinking’, Kuro.” Kenma laughs, soft and breathy before he clicks his tongue. Kuroo’s laughter follows before it’s suddenly cut off.

Bokuto strains to hear. “Are you guys makin’ out? You are, aren’t you?!”

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, maybe you should just get out of the box,” Kuroo says, hissing before he adds, “Kitten, that was my rib your elbow’s trying to take out.”

“Don’t be so hard on him.”

“This was his idea!”

“Still.”

“He said he wanted to do some thinking, so I’m letting him. I think he’s getting off easy.”

“As opposed to you, who kept things from me and me who kept things from you. Maybe we should all be in the box.”

“There’s not enough room here for all of us!” Bokuto calls out, tugging his sweat-lined collar. “Is it just me or is anyone else feelin’ like a bun in the oven?”

Kuroo snorts. “Think about what you just said. Carefully.”

“No! I didn’t mean that kind of bun. But seriously, guys, really hot in here--”

“If you stayed quiet, you’d be out of there faster.”

“Good point. Shutting up now,” Bokuto grumbles, trying to find a semi-comfortable position.

A short while later, he’s starting to drift off when he hears a knock at the door. Footfalls shuffle off toward the sound and Kenma’s voice muffles through the wood. “I didn’t order another delivery. Were you expecting anyone today, Kuro?”

“No? Don't think anyone even knows to look for me at your place except for Kou. Oh! Maybe--”

There’s a pregnant pause when Kenma opens the door and it’s another minute before he finally says something, his voice catching in surprise. “Akaashi? What are you doing here?”

Bokuto’s stomach jumps in his throat in the same time his heart plummets. Head accidentally knocking into the crate cover, he presses his lips together to suppress the groan, exhaling sharply through his nostrils with a wince instead. With his text messages still unanswered, he’d begun to give up hope that he’d ever talk to Akaashi again. But now, he’s in Kenma’s apartment and so close that Bokuto fidgets with the knowledge, glues himself to the crate’s wall, listening for any indication that Akaashi’s unexpected visit has something to do with him.

“I’m actually looking for Bokuto-san. I checked his apartment, but no one’s home, so I thought I’d see if he was over here-- oh, Kuroo-san. I didn’t realize you were here, too.”

There’s a heavy silence before Kuroo clears his throat. “I’m always here. Kou’s in there--” He pauses a beat, and Bokuto presses his palms against the underside of the crate’s lid, wonders what’s happening in the world outside.

“Why is he in a box?” Akaashi asks.

To which Kuroo responds, “he’s apologizing and doing some silent thinking.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause and when Akaashi speaks again, there’s a noticeable sadness there. “Do you think I can have a minute alone with him?”

“He’s not really supposed to t--” Kuroo starts.

But Kenma cuts him off. “We’ll be in my room,” he says and a second later, Bokuto hears footsteps retreating farther away before a door closes.

He hears another set of feet, louder than Kenma’s, but not by much. There’s a quiet shuffle and a light scraping sound on the panel Bokuto’s back rests on, followed by a voice just above Bokuto’s largest air hole.

“Bokuto-san?” 

True to Bokuto’s word, he doesn’t respond. It’s difficult enough to sit still in general, but holding his tongue takes an enormous amount of his will power. Especially since the cause of his self-exile is sitting just on the other side of the crate panel. Instead, he bites his cheek to keep himself in check and waits for Akaashi to continue. 

“I hope you can hear me. This might be easier anyway. I’ve been doing some thinking myself and I’ve decided I should stay away for a while. There’s--”

Bokuto hears the words, but his brain seems to come to its own conclusion. _Not “for a while”. “For good”. He wants to stay away for good._ Panic sets in and suddenly, the container seems smaller, more suffocating than it had been a minute before. He tries to catch his breath as Akaashi goes on.

“--a job opening a friend of mine had offered and I’m taking it. It would be good for the both of us, I think. Give us some time to get over it.”

_But I don’t want to get over it_ , he wants to say, but refrains. Keeps his promise to Kuroo, despite the lump forming in his throat, the sting in his eyes.

Akaashi sighs, his fingernails scratching against the wood so quietly that Bokuto almost doesn’t hear it. He imagines Akaashi’s fingers, pictures them fidgeting and twisting like they do when he’s thinking, when he’s turning over things in his head that he doesn’t know how to say out loud. “I don’t want to be the person who breaks up a great friendship. I’ve done enough damage already. But I wanted you to hear it from me directly so you don’t think I left because of something you did.”

Bokuto squirms in place, but keeps resolutely silent as Akaashi pauses and takes a breath, exhales slowly. “I heard what you said to Kuroo-san. Outside, at the bar. That’s you for me, too. I think if things were different, we could have been good together. Great, even.” He stops and sighs; long and mournful and encompassing everything Bokuto feels. Then he leans in next to Bokuto’s only source of ventilation and murmurs, “thank you for letting me be myself with you. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for that. Please take care of yourself, Bokuto-san.”

Another shuffle signals Akaashi’s departure, confirmed when Bokuto hears the soft click of the front door. He bites the edge of his bottom lip, squeezes his eyes shut to keep the sting away.

Seconds later, the lid of the crate lifts and Kuroo stands there, pointedly staring at him. “Are you seriously gonna let him go like that?”

Bokuto blinks, confused. “But... the apology... silent thinking time--”

“The love of your life is about to walk out of the building in the next second; don’t make me regret losing a few more minutes of you sulking inside the box,” Kuroo says with a laugh as he gestures wildly to the door.

“So we’re okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Kuroo pulls him in for a hug, genuine and bone-breaking, before he shoves him toward the exit. “Now, go get him before your happy ending gets fucked and I have to get you drunk off of cheap beer to make you forget!"

“You know you’re my best friend and all, but I at least deserve premium booze...”

“Priorities, Kou. Remind me to break out the good stuff after you get your happy ending,” Kuroo shoots back with a roll of his eyes, though not without affection.

Kenma comes up next to Kuroo, wrapping an arm behind him. Offers a hint of a smile. “Good luck, Bo.”

 

*****

 

By the time Bokuto reaches the main entrance of the building, Akaashi is already halfway down the next block, his steps quick and hurried, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Akaashi!! Hold up-- whoa! Sorry!” Bokuto swerves and nearly misses colliding with an old woman ambling along with her walking cane. Then he picks up pace again, feels the strain in his muscles from the sudden sprint after being stuck inside the cramped box for so long, and calls out, “AKAASHI, WAIT!”

Akaashi stops and turns, his eyes narrowing. There’s confusion there, his jaw falling slack as he replies, “Bokuto-san? What are you doing out here? I thought you were supposed to be in the box?”

“I... was... but,” Bokuto gasps, skidding to a stop as he pauses to catch his breath, “couldn’t... let you go.” He sucks in a lungful of air and exhales slowly, straightening up once he feels like he’s gotten his bearings, a grasp on what he’s going to say despite the shot of adrenaline and the way his limbs feel like a vat of uncooperative jelly. “Okay, I seriously thought my legs were gonna fall off from that mad sprint...”

“And here I thought personal trainers were supposed to be in top shape.” Akaashi laughs -- quiet and amused and turning Bokuto’s already useless legs into something even more useless.

“Give me a break, I was stuck in that box and running for my life. Or something like my life. Not that someone’s trying to kill me or anything! Or that I’m dying or whatever. I, well, you get the picture! Something really important, okay?!”

Akaashi nods slowly, his lips twitching while Bokuto tries to figure out how he’s supposed to get his thoughts together with Akaashi looking at him that way. “Mm, something important. Right.”

“Don’t go.” Bokuto reaches out, idly traces a finger along Akaashi’s palm before he grasps his hand. Firm. Sure. “Please. Not if you don’t really want to.”

Akaashi seems to think it over, lifts his gaze to level with Bokuto’s, a crease between his brows forming. “But you and Kuroo-san--”

“--are fine. We’re fine. But I won’t be,” Bokuto says with a shake of his head, voice pinched and pleading. “Not if you go.” He presses Akaashi’s palm to his chest, cradles Akaashi’s face between his hands, determined to make him see, to feel the way his heart stutters. “You’re the first person I’ve wanted to be with who’s never laughed at me even though there’s a lot to laugh at. The first one I can really be myself around. That I can just be me and it’s enough. That _I’m_ enough. You said I was that for you, too. Just-- please? Stay with me.”

“Is that what you really want? Even after all the trouble I’ve caused?” Akaashi asks quietly, his fingers twitching against the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt. “I don’t want to make it harder for y--”

Bokuto’s impatience wins out, catches Akaashi off guard when the kiss cuts him off, takes the words filled with doubt and replaces them with an action so tender that when Bokuto pulls back to anchor his forehead against Akaashi’s, his heart sings with it. “Not being with you. That’s the only thing that’s hard.” Then something else dawns on him and heat warms his cheeks, his chuckle sheepish. “Okay, not the only thing that’s hard, apparently.”

Akaashi tries to stifle a snort and fails. “Bokuto-san--”

But Bokuto cuts him off again, the kiss lingering and unhurried. Enough to bring them back in the moment. “Keiji,” he says, hopeful. “What you said back there. About us being great? I want that. I want you.” His thumbs gently brush across Akaashi’s cheeks, feels warmth beneath his touch. “Stay.”

Seconds pass, slow and nerve-wracking, while Akaashi takes it all in, his breathing uneven, eyes unfocused until finally they lift and settle to meet Bokuto’s questioning gaze.

With an audible swallow, Akaashi nods, leans in, and this time, the kiss goes on until everything blurs, everything fades, and all that’s left is Akaashi. Warm and there and real.

Just Akaashi.

And the thought makes Bokuto smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the amazing comments/kudos/likes/reblogs on this fic. You guys seriously keep me pumped to continue the story and I couldn't ask for a better readership. We're in the final stretch! Just one more chapter, an epilogue of sorts, and then fin. It makes me a little sad, but also incredibly happy with the way this fic's been received. Hope you guys enjoyed the resolutions and as always, comments/kudos fuel my writing fire! ♥
> 
> -atsu

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@limitlessmonster](http://limitlessmonster.tumblr.com)


End file.
